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Eddie kisses like he’s got something to prove. It drives Buck crazy, but he supposes that’s part of what Eddie is trying to do.
Their kisses are never the same twice. They’re always unpredictable, wild, a tornado that Buck can never see coming and that manages to sweep him off his feet every time. Each new kiss becomes Buck’s favorite one, and each new kiss only leaves him begging for the next.
The first time Buck didn't even have time to process Eddie’s lips on his before they quickly moved away towards his neck, the hinge of his jaw, the base of his throat.
The first time wasn’t meant to be about their kisses, it was meant to be about the adrenaline still coursing through their veins, about their bodies twisting to meet each other’s even with the center console of the Jeep between them. The first time was about Eddie’s hand under Buck’s t-shirt twisting his nipple until Buck gasped. The first time was about Buck’s hand fisting Eddie’s dick even as his jeans stayed on until Eddie came with a groan and a swear.
There was never meant to be a second time, but when it happened it was just as fast and maddening as the first time. Except that Buck’s lips hardly separated from Eddie’s as they rutted against each other in the back of Buck’s car, their pants halfway down their thighs, their bodies contorted in the small space, sweat making their grips slip over and over again before their come painted their skins as they panted against each other’s mouth.
There was never meant to be a third time either, nor a fourth. But now, by their sixth, or seventh, or maybe eighth time, Buck has learnt to love the unpredictability of it all. He’s sure the uncertain anticipation is part of the thrill, just as he’s sure the feeling of fleetingness contributes to the eroticism of Eddie’s touches and enhances the mystery of his kisses.
Their last time is probably their hottest, and Buck will find that fitting once he knows it is indeed their last time, but in the throes of it Buck only really knows that Eddie’s tongue is on the brink of driving him crazy. It keeps outlining the shape of Buck’s lips slowly without moving inside his mouth, the tip of it touching Buck’s tongue teasingly before retreating every time Buck wants it to stay.
On his back in the backseat of the Jeep -the only place Buck and Eddie have ever really kissed or even touched each other with any clear intent- Buck writhes and whines, his legs bent as far as they can go so his body can fit inside the confines of the car. Eddie’s lips are not solely responsible for the torture Buck is experiencing, as Eddie’s right hand keeps lightly stroking Buck’s dick, the touch too feeble to really satisfy him.
“Eddie.” Buck’s voice sounds wrecked, breathless and rough as if he’s been screaming for hours, even though this is the first word Buck has said in a while, his mouth much too occupied with Eddie’s to waste time on meaningless things like speaking.
The word is stolen out of Buck’s mouth by Eddie’s kiss, his tongue finally tangling with Buck’s, finally exploring the soft inside of Buck’s cheeks, the ridges of his palate. Buck moans as his breath is stolen out of him as well, along with his sanity.
“Eddie.” This time the name is groaned right into Eddie’s mouth, and it makes Eddie chuckle, his chest shaking against Buck’s.
“I like how you moan my name,” Eddie says, timing his words perfectly with an upwards stroke of his hand, his grip tightening slightly on Buck’s dick.
If Buck had been asked before he and Eddie had ever kissed or hooked up what he thought Eddie was like in bed he would have first thought the question weird, but then answered that Eddie was probably nothing more than a sweet lover, likely too bland for Buck’s tastes. The guy had a seven year old kid, and as far as Buck knew he had a wife he was separated but not divorced from, and he didn’t strike Buck as the adventurous type.
But then, Buck had only known Eddie a couple of months before Eddie had devoured his mouth for the first time in his Jeep right after a rough shift, their hair still smelling like smoke, their skin still warm from the heat of a fire that had seemingly transferred to their bodies after it had been extinguished. Buck had only barely begun to get to know him before Eddie had started surprising him in every way.
And it’s not like their sex has shown Buck anything he hadn't done before, or like it’s gone beyond the simplicity of hand jobs and rutting, but Eddie has definitely proven himself more than Buck could have ever imagined him to be. He’s shown his sweet side to Buck, sure, but more during their friendship than during their sex. When they've slept together Eddie has managed to be fun, and a little fierce, exceptionally hot and such an expert at commanding the deepest of pleasures out of Buck.
With his thumb, Eddie circles the tip of Buck’s dick, spreading the precome that has been slowly leaking out of it and making the glide of his hand easier with it.
“You want this over fast, Buck?” Eddie asks him, his hand stroking Buck twice with a fast pace and a firm grip before slowing down and loosening its hold. “Or do you want me to take my time?”
“Fast, fast,” Buck begs, closing his eyes firmly and elevating his hips from the seats to chase the pressure of Eddie’s hand. “Fast.”
A low chuckle escapes from Eddie lips, and Buck only realizes his mistake then.
“Taking my time it is,” Eddie says, and he moves his right hand away from Buck’s dick, his fingertips gracing the V of his hips and the grooves of his abs before fluttering away towards his nipples.
Before Buck can complain, Eddie’s mouth descends upon him and his bottom lip gets captured by Eddie’s teeth in a somewhat painful but entirely delicious tug.
Eddie’s fingers switch between pinching Buck’s nipples and rolling them, over and over again, first his right and then his left. Buck’s head is thrown back in pleasure, a silent scream catching in his throat, when Eddie’s mouth bites down on Buck’s left nipple, tugging it with his teeth like he did to Buck’s lip just moments before.
“Eddie, fuck. I need to come,” Buck says, unashamed of his desperation.
The shakiness of Buck’s voice and the trembling of his body do nothing to convince Eddie, who just licks a path from Buck’s chest to his neck, attaching his mouth to the space where his shoulder begins and sucking an angry red mark on it. He pulls his head away to observe his work for a second, but then he dives right in again to fix his teeth to the same spot. Buck has to stifle a shout by biting down on his fist as his legs wrap around Eddie’s waist, trying to bring Eddie’s lower body closer to his.
No matter how hard Buck tries, Eddie manages to resist Buck’s attempts and he keeps their lower bodies separated, denying Buck the contact he craves.
It’s been a long time since Buck has slept with someone nearly as big as he is, with someone as strong as Eddie. It’s been years, a good handful of them. The contrast between the last times he had sex before Eddie -those encounters with Abby where Buck had all the control and the strength, where the emotionality of the experience was more important than the physicality of it- and the times Buck has had sex with him is stark and almost jarring.
It wasn’t like Buck ran out searching for the opposite of what Abby had given him during their time together as soon as he left her apartment and began to come to terms with letting her go, but it certainly hadn't hurt when Eddie had practically fallen in Buck’s lap all rough and biting and easy. Buck can’t deny there is a certain appeal in the difference. He can’t deny that there’s more to what he gets from this arrangement -distraction, pretending, avoidance- than simple orgasms. But then, it’s not like Buck can’t imagine Eddie has his own deeper reasons, previously mentioned estranged wife included.
Buck tries one more time to press his hips against Eddie’s, to bring some sort of pressure or contact close to his dick. Eddie prevents this from happening again, and Buck has to use his hands to grab Eddie’s head from where he’s been licking the hollow of Buck’s neck to get him to look Buck in the eye.
“Eddie, I swear to God,” Buck says, and despite how badly his hands are trembling and how close to the edge of madness he feels he manages to sound commanding and sure. “If you don’t let me come in the next five seconds, I’m—”
“You’ll what?” Eddie interrupts him, the hint of a smirk on his face. “What will you do, huh?”
His hands fix themselves to Buck’s hips, tightening around them until Buck feels the pressure of them so deep inside him he believes Eddie has fused their bodies into one. The touch is both a warning and a demonstration of who’s in control, and Buck tries to keep a wanton whine from leaving his throat. He fails, and the smirk grows bigger on Eddie’s lips.
Time has lost its meaning for Buck. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they both climbed in the backseat of his car, since they started trying to lose themselves in each other. It might have been just fifteen minutes, it might have been an hour. Maybe a full calendar year has gone by, holidays passed and seasons changed, since Buck started to feel the need for release and absolution.
All that Buck knows is he can’t take one more second of it. He can’t do it. He can’t. Can’t.
Something must finally give him away, something undeniable and even dangerous, because Eddie’s face softens slightly and his hands leave Buck’s hips.
“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, and his right hand finally wraps around Buck’s dick again while his left cups Buck’s balls gently. “I think I’ve pushed you enough for today.”
Heaven doesn’t open up for Buck then, if only because Buck thinks there must be something sacrilegious about linking the way his pleasure consumes him from the inside out and God, but it’s close.
It’s feeling a tiny million sparks inside his every cell, not quite electric shocks, not quite fireworks. It’s his chest heaving as the air around him gets thin, his hands holding onto Eddie’s shoulders as Eddie pumps him mercilessly. The strokes are a little dry and rough, Eddie’s hand catching on Buck’s skin a few times, but that just makes it all the more erotic.
If Buck was a little more clear-headed he’d be embarrassed by how quickly he actually comes, but his head is full of nothing but Eddie’s name and static as he shoots his come all over Eddie’s hand and his own stomach. Eddie keeps stroking him as his vision blacks out and his heart stops for a beat, two, maybe three.
Through the slight ringing in his ears Buck hears Eddie mutter, “You’re so fucking hot.”
The compliment serves to increase the satisfaction Buck now feels inside him. It settles right over Buck’s heart and on the pit of his stomach and lights him up in the best of ways.
Buck only realizes he has closed his eyes when he feels Eddie’s lips pressing against them gently, two light feather kisses that make Buck’s throat feel funny and tight. It’s a gesture much more suited for whom Eddie is as a friend than whom he tends to be as a lover with Buck.
Opening up his eyes timidly, Buck gazes up at Eddie just as Eddie is reaching to grab Buck’s discarded sweatshirt from the floor of the car. He uses it to wipe the come off of his hand and Buck’s stomach, laughing when Buck makes an offended face at him.
“It’s warm outside, you don’t need it,” Eddie says, bunching it up and throwing it back to the floor. “I actually need my hand.”
“You should have just licked it off then,” Buck complains, despite the fact that he isn’t that sad about the sweatshirt. He’ll try to get the come off as soon as he’s home, but if he doesn’t succeed he’s not losing anything more than a generic navy blue hoodie. It’s more about the act of ribbing Eddie than it is about the actual complaint.
Eddie raises an eyebrow as he moves to tap the fingers of his just cleaned hand against Buck’s lips. “We both know that’s more your thing than mine.”
A sudden warmth travels from Buck’s heart to his cheeks and neck, and Buck knows he must be blushing as Eddie’s fingers drag through his lips, parting them slightly before Eddie’s thumb presses harder on Buck’s bottom lip.
The touch is gone as quickly as it arrived, and Eddie starts to move away from Buck, trying to find the easiest way to dislodge his body from Buck’s in the small space. Buck makes a confused noise as his right hand reaches towards Eddie.
“Hey, I didn’t—” Buck doesn't finish the sentence, but he gestures towards Eddie’s crotch, where Buck can clearly still see the outline of Eddie’s dick through the denim of his jeans.
Looking down at his own lap, Eddie shrugs as he puts his t-shirt on.
“That’s okay. I have to go pick Chris up from my Abuela’s place,” Eddie says. His left hand sneaks into his jeans and he adjusts himself to make the bulge less obvious.
“But…” It’s only one word and yet Buck knows his disappointment is obvious in it. He closes his mouth immediately, swallowing down the rest of the sentence. It tastes bitter as it travels down his esophagus. He feels unexpectedly cold and exposed, his chest bare where Eddie’s is now covered, his dick still lying soft against his stomach.
“Hey, hey,” Eddie grabs one of Buck’s hands in his and squeezes it gently. “You’ll make it up to me next time.”
Next time.
This is the first time there’s been an explicit mention of a next time . That’s not how they’ve ever operated, or at least not how their sex has operated at least.
Their friendship has been full of concrete plans, fixed get-togethers that they book days in advance because their schedules are crazy and Eddie has a kid he’s raising as a single father. Their friendship has full conversations and complete agency. This other thing between them is put together as it goes, it’s stolen and unpremeditated, it simply is without being discussed.
Next time.
Maybe it’s all in Buck’s head but those two simple words could begin to change everything between them. It’s a shift Buck can’t explain but he can feel.
Eddie kisses him then like he’s got something to prove. His tongue tangles with Buck’s for a minute and his stubble tingles against Buck’s lips. Eddie kisses him like he’s trying to tell him something without having to say the words, but Buck can’t understand this new language yet.
That 's fine.
Next time.
He’ll get to know this kiss better next time.
_______________________
Except next time never comes, as Eddie’s formerly estranged wife becomes Eddie’s presently close wife once more.
Buck doesn't find out about it -about her - until a couple weeks after she’s already back in Eddie’s life, but he could feel something had changed even before he knew what had truly shifted.
Just like they never talked about it -the sex, the arrangement, the meaning of both- when it started, him and Eddie never really talk about it when it ends. It just does. One day, Buck drops off Eddie at his house and watches him as he opens the front door with the ghost of Eddie’s lips still roaming his body, and then another day weeks later, Buck realizes he’ll never get to give Eddie the orgasm he owes him.
It’s not the greatest tragedy of Buck’s life. It doesn’t hurt the way Abby leaving did, or even the way watching some of his one night stands leave his room used to, at times. But it does make Buck shiver if he analyzes it too closely.
Maybe it’s the fact that it -whatever it was- finished before it could even begin. Maybe it’s the fact that it finished right as Buck had been sure it was taking shape.
Next time.
It’s not the greatest tragedy of Buck’s life but Buck still mourns it all the same, even if just for a couple days. He jerks off late at night in his bed, his eyes closed so he can have an easier time pretending Eddie’s fingers are the ones wrapped around him, so he can imagine that it’s Eddie’s tongue traveling down his chest and not Buck’s free hand.
And then, he stops thinking about it. He moves on, if there was even anything to move on from.
His friendship with Eddie actually gets stronger, and Buck doesn’t know if it’s because of the shedding of the complications that sex can bring or if it’s because it was always meant to be that way. It’s natural, it’s the thing, his friendship with Eddie, even the way he’s slowly bonding with Christopher. They fit in his life in a way Buck has never experienced before, and he likes to believe he fits in theirs too, that he brings them maybe a third of the happiness and comfort they bring him.
Thoughts about their times together slowly lose their hold on Buck, and though he doesn’t forget the sex -because sex like that is impossible to forget- it does stop being one of the defining features in his interactions with Eddie.
Still, the moment that Buck officially meets Shannon Diaz the sex he’s had with her husband is all that is on his mind.
They almost crash into each other as Buck is exiting the laundry room at the firehouse. He has to take a step back as he flails his arms to balance himself and not trample over her. Though they have never talked to each other, Buck recognizes her immediately from the picture Chris keeps of them together on his nightstand and from the few times she’s come to the station either to talk to Eddie or to pick him up.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she says, extending her arm as if she’s going to catch Buck if he falls, despite how tiny she looks in comparison to him.
An image of Eddie’s naked chest flashes through Buck’s brain, and his mouth fills with the taste of him, as if his tongue was inside Eddie’s mouth right this second. It’s disconcerting, the vividness of his memories in contrast to the reality of Shannon in front of him, and Buck doubts for a second whether he’s really here or there, in his car with Eddie, sweating and losing his mind.
He coughs twice before mustering up a small smile and saying, “That’s alright. I’m not known for my graceful nature.”
The way Shannon chuckles and tucks a strand of hair behind one of her ears gives Buck the tiniest hint of what Eddie might have seen in her at first. One of the thin straps of her dress falls down her shoulder, and her gaze grows curious and analytic as she fixes it. Buck can’t help but imagine Eddie’s fingers, the ones Buck licked more than once when they needed a little bit of a slick touch but they had no lube at hand, tugging it back down in that teasing way he used to take Buck’s t-shirt off.
“Wait, you’re… You’re Buck, aren’t you?” Shannon asks, but the tone of her voice makes it clear she knows the answer to her question already.
“Umm…” Buck’s heart skips a beat, and he has to wipe the palms of his hands on his trousers when they start sweating.
The question sounds innocent enough, but Buck doesn’t know the woman in front of him at all -despite how one of the closest people in his life is also one of the closest people in hers- and there could be a hidden meaning to it. There could be a hint of a deeper understanding in her words. But as Shannon’s smile grows and her face brightens, Buck feels his muscles unclench and his jaw relax.
“Christopher can’t stop talking about you,” she says, and suddenly Buck remembers there is one more person that connects them, perhaps the most important one.
Happiness bubbles up inside Buck’s chest at the simple mention of Chris’s name, at the mere acknowledgment that Christopher talks about him, that Buck has wormed his way inside Chris’s little bubble of people he wants, and maybe even needs, in his life.
“Neither can Eddie, really,” Shannon adds, her words casual, almost an afterthought to her despite how Buck feels them so deep in the core of him.
Did he tell you I know how he sounds like when he comes? Buck thinks. Do you know that your husband has jerked me off in the backseat of my car more than once and has made me see stars with just his hand?
It’s a miracle that Buck keeps his mouth shut, his smile feeling shaky on his face as he fights to keep his eyes on Shannon instead of averting his gaze in embarrassment.
“They’re a great pair.” Buck’s voice trembles despite the simple nature of those four words.
The words are not the problem, the memories are.
Eddie’s thigh lodged in between Buck’s legs so Buck can rub himself against the firmness of it until he comes. Eddie’s voice in his ear telling Buck he’s close. Eddie’s hands on his dick, on his chest, tugging at his hair. Eddie’s fingers in Buck’s mouth, flicking his nipples, trapping his wrists. Buck hasn’t thought about these times in weeks now, but as Shannon smiles at him Buck replays the scenes over and over in his head, as if he was trying to project the images into Shannon’s mind too.
Logically, Buck knows Eddie can’t be the only person he has ever slept with that has someone by their side now. There must be women Buck has fucked that are now wives, or at least girlfriends. There must be men Buck has been with that have gotten serious with someone else. But Buck has never had that proof staring him right in the face before.
But most importantly, none of the other people Buck has slept with have been Eddie. For now the sentiment has gone unsaid, but Buck’s been thinking it for weeks: Eddie is his best friend. And so maybe, despite the fact that Buck hasn’t thought about it in weeks, the sex they had can’t exactly be compared to the sex Buck used to have with countless other people. Maybe it means more to meet Shannon and know there’s a part of Eddie they intimately share because Buck knows their lives are intrinsically linked for the future to come.
“You should come around some time,” Shannon says, and the invitation rings in Buck’s ears as his brain brings back the smell of Eddie’s cologne when Buck used to bury his face in Eddie’s neck to muffle his groans. She’s fiddling with the rings on her fingers and Buck can’t help but notice she’s not wearing a wedding band. “Or I mean, you know, we should do something together, with Chris. All of us. I think he’d like that.”
There’s a subtle emptiness to the words, an awkward edge to them. Buck doesn’t know Shannon, he doesn’t know her tones of voice or her speech patterns, but it’s easy to tell the sentences she just said don’t fit her naturally. They feel like a costume she’s trying to put on, an act she’s trying really hard to perfectly play.
None of these are things Buck has any right to think, and they’re not things he’d feel like he could discuss with Eddie, not because Eddie would react badly to Buck bringing them up, but because it feels like crossing an invisible barrier that they’ve worked in tandem to create.
So Buck ignores the wrongness of the offer and he nods and says, “That’d be great.”
A lengthy silence wraps around them tightly, although it isn’t a real silence at all. The station still buzzes with life, with sounds that Buck recognizes and takes comfort in, as both him and Shannon struggle to find more words to finish their conversation.
“Shannon!”
The interruption feels like a reprieve for just half a second, until Buck’s brain realizes who the voice belongs to, and his eyes catch sight of Eddie walking towards them. Buck wonders if Shannon also notices the way Eddie seems to stumble on air when he sees the two of them together.
“You guys met,” Eddie says as soon as he reaches them, and Buck watches as Eddie seems to have trouble settling his gaze on just one of them.
One of Shannon’s small hands rests on Eddie’s bicep over the material of his uniform shirt, and Buck has to pull his eyes away from it when he realizes how hard he’s staring at the point of contact. But then his gaze catches the way Eddie’s arm wraps easily around her waist, a movement so natural it betrays the years of history between them, even despite their ups and downs.
A painful stabbing feeling grows in Buck’s stomach, one that Buck recognizes as longing, one that quenched a bit with Abby near, one that has gotten more out of control since she left.
“Yes,” Shannon confirms, turning to look at Buck again and smiling at him like they’re the ones sharing a secret. “You could say we ran into each other.”
Forcing a chuckle, Buck tries to quickly come up with a way to end the conversation, but he finds himself trapped in front of Eddie and Shannon, his feet rooted to the floor as if he weighed a million pounds.
It is Eddie who comes to his rescue again, even though Buck can guess that Eddie has enough selfish reasons to want to avoid this three-way interaction at all costs as well. Perhaps Eddie has double the images in his head, stolen moments with Buck mixing with intimate moments with Shannon all battling for attention in his mind. The possibility makes Buck’s mouth taste a little sour.
“I can walk you to your car,” Eddie says to Shannon, but Buck can see him looking at him from the corner of his eye for a second before he focuses back on her. “We can talk about our plans for tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Shannon agrees, and her answer seems to relax Eddie’s posture in the same way Buck can feel his relax as well.
Before they can start to walk away, Shannon faces Buck once more, and she extends her free arm -the one not in contact with Eddie- towards him.
“It was nice to meet you, Buck,” she says, and she sounds sincere which makes reaching out and grabbing her hand in his even more of a difficult task.
But Buck does reach out, and he does grab her hand in his for a handshake, his eyes staying firmly on her, not because it’s really something he wants to be doing but because it’s the one thing that guarantees he can avoid looking in Eddie’s direction. Her hand is warm and soft in his, but Buck feels cold anyway.
“It was nice to meet you too,” Buck says, and he lets go of her hand as quickly as he can, taking a step back as Eddie and Shannon start walking away towards the parking lot.
They’re halfway down the bay when Eddie turns his head around to look at Buck over his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow and, even in the distance, Buck can read the confusion on his face. It makes Buck chuckle despite his previous tension, and something untangles inside him as he shakes his head. His mind settles, and the images that had been assaulting him only minutes ago retreat once more, back to their hidden corners in Buck’s brain. Eddie rolls his eyes at Buck before turning forward again, and he and Shannon disappear around a corner, leaving Buck behind with the feeling that things will be okay.
He can learn to live with the fact that someone he used to sleep with is a husband to someone else. He can learn to live with the fact that Eddie , despite being someone he used to sleep with, is a husband to someone else. After all, he was someone’s husband even when they were having sex together.
_______________________
Except barely a month later Shannon dies, and Buck doesn’t know how to even begin to cope with the fact that Eddie is now a widower.
_______________________
Two weeks after Eddie tells Buck he’s forgiven him for the mess he made during the lawsuit, Eddie kisses him again.
They’re in Buck’s loft, after a shift that wasn’t too long but wasn’t too short either, that wasn’t too chaotic or too relaxed. It was just one shift in a sea of countless others very similar to it. The kind of shift Buck has learnt to appreciate so much more since he came back to the 118.
The television is playing some sort of animal documentary, one that Buck thinks Christopher might enjoy if he was there with them but that Buck isn’t really focusing his attention on, and he knows neither is Eddie. They’re busy eating through the take out that just arrived mere seconds ago, the Vietnamese food that Eddie loves best but he only gets to have when they hang out in Buck’s apartment.
Everything is devoured in a matter of minutes, as if both of them hadn’t feasted themselves on Bobby’s mac and cheese while on shift only a couple of hours before.
Buck can taste mint on Eddie’s tongue when it breaks past his lips and meets his own. It’s unexpected, both the kiss and the flavor, although Buck should have probably seen both coming.
Before, kissing Eddie always felt a little bit like walking into a fire, the rush of danger coursing through Buck’s veins, the adrenaline of the feat awakening his whole body. This time, kissing Eddie feels like walking away from a fire unscathed. Relief floods Buck’s senses, and he feels alive not because he’s staring death right in the face but because he’s embracing life.
Their lips separate with a loud and almost obscene sound, and Buck moves his head back to stare right into Eddie’s eyes. It’s been so long since they were this close, breathing in the air the other breathes out, and yet it feels like it was just yesterday that Eddie had promised Buck a next time.
“I’m pretty sure I owe you an orgasm,” Buck says, and he watches as Eddie’s eyes light up in understanding.
A small smile pulls the left corner of Eddie’s lips up, the grin close to a smirk except for how soft it looks on Eddie’s face. Eddie moves away from Buck then, and Buck is about to let a whine leave his throat in protest when Eddie’s hand grabs his as he settles back on the couch so their contact won’t be completely broken.
“Well, it’s about time I’m given what I’m owed, then,” Eddie says, letting his legs fall open, his free hand resting high up on his own thigh, pulling Buck’s gaze towards his lap. The material of his jeans sits in a way that lets Buck guess that Eddie is not completely hard yet, but it’s not going to take Buck much to get him there.
Neither of them mention how Buck wasn’t the one refusing to pay his debts. Neither of them really want to think about what it is that happened that allows Eddie to collect his earnings today.
Eddie’s hand -the one not holding Buck’s- travels up his own thigh until it reaches the button of his jeans. It takes him a few clumsy seconds to unbutton the pants one-handed, and as soon as he manages to do so Buck places his free hand over Eddie’s, stopping him from unfastening his jeans by himself.
The sound of their breathing is loud, even with the television still playing in the background, and they haven’t properly touched each other yet. One kiss is all it has taken to unravel them.
His fingers are steady as Buck unfastens the fly of Eddie’s jeans slowly, taking his time if only to watch Eddie’s eyelids flutter as Buck’s knuckles graze the growing bulge on his lap. Eddie raises his hips slightly so between the two of them they can pull down Eddie’s pants to his mid thighs. The movements are awkward, probably not helped by the fact that they refuse to stop holding hands all the while.
Just as Buck’s hand is reaching towards Eddie’s briefs, just as he’s about to hold Eddie’s dick in his hand after months of only having stroked his own, an idea takes root in Buck’s mind, blooming until it becomes impossible to ignore.
The rug under the couch cushions his fall as Buck moves from his seat and lets his knees drop to the floor, his body now placed between Eddie’s open legs. Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion until his gaze moves to Buck’s mouth, where Buck is wetting his lips with his tongue.
They’ve never done this before. None of their previous encounters ever veered from the expected unexpectedness of them. It was always like this: Buck’s car, end of a shift, one of them would put a hand on the other’s thigh or send a loaded look the other’s way, they’d meet in the middle or in the back, teeth clashing, tongues exploring, chest to chest in the best of cases, Buck’s hand on Eddie, Eddie’s hand on Buck. It was easy, it was fast. It was enough.
Buck knows it wouldn’t be enough now, not when Eddie is Eddie in a way he hadn’t been back when they did this for the first time.
“Buck,” Eddie says, breathes, pleads. His eyes are heavy on Buck. “Are you—”
But he doesn’t get to finish his question, as Buck lowers his head and takes the tip of Eddie’s dick into his mouth.
“Buck.” The name sounds filthy in Eddie’s voice now, even more so when the fingers of Eddie’s free hand tangle themselves in Buck’s curls while his other hand tightens in Buck’s.
There is nothing special about the way Eddie’s skin tastes, nothing remarkable about the way Eddie’s dick feels between Buck’s lips, against his tongue. And yet Buck finds himself addicted to it at first lick.
He wants to go slowly, he wants to savor the moment and take all of Eddie’s inches an hour at a time. He wants to go fast, he wants to take Eddie’s cock in one swallow, the head of it hitting his throat and making him gag. Buck wants. He wants .
The way Eddie’s thighs are trembling, the way his fingers twitch in Buck’s hair, the irregular pattern of his breathing, they tell Buck that Eddie wants as well. They also tell Buck today might not be the day to take his time.
Wrapping his hand around the base of Eddie’s dick, Buck pulls his mouth away from it only to tease the slit with his tongue. A drop of pre-come careens down Eddie’s dick, but Buck laps it hungrily before fitting his lips around the entirety of Eddie’s dick once more.
It’s barely been a minute, maybe two, when Buck carefully uses the edges of his teeth against the tender skin of Eddie’s dick. It’s nothing but the hint of danger, and it lasts only a second but Buck mixes it with the hollowing of his cheeks and the twisting of his wrist for maximum effect.
Eddie comes in Buck’s mouth.
And that’s how it begins again.
Actually, Buck thinks it’s how everything truly begins, because whatever it is they had before -whatever name those fumbles could be given- pales in comparison to what they have now.
They still never talk about it, but their silence carries a different quality with it these days. Now, Buck can read Eddie’s body and his eyes as if they were his own. Now, they have developed a language that only they can speak, a language that transcends words, a language that transcends meaning.
They still never mix their friendship with the sex, but the line between what constitutes sex and what constitutes friendship has certainly blurred a bit. There are caresses that happen in the middle of an inside joke. There are inside jokes that happen in the middle of blow jobs. There are looks exchanged over video game controllers. There are future plans made after orgasms have been exchanged.
It’s a complicated routine that they have managed to perfect, a rhythmic song and dance that they perform together day after day after day. Buck, slowly but meaningfully, falls in love with the certainty and the excitingness of it.
For months and months on end everywhere he looks, everywhere he goes, there is Eddie. Especially in his loft, the place they’ve unofficially designated as theirs . The Diaz house is, without a doubt, the place where Buck feels most himself, where Buck is able to take the first full breaths of his entire life. But at the end of the day, it isn’t his. The loft, though? The loft is the first space that should, theoretically, belong to Buck, and does, really, feel like his . And it’s all thanks to Eddie.
Eddie, who is lying down naked on Buck’s bed with an arm thrown across his face, looking like he was always meant to be there.
Buck watches him from the doorway of the bathroom as he cleans himself up with a damp towel. This image of Eddie has become familiar over the last few months, and yet it hasn’t lost its power over Buck.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re really good at that?” Eddie asks, still sounding like he’s trying to catch his breath even though Buck made him come well over a couple of minutes before.
Shaking his head, Buck chuckles and throws the dirty towel in the sink. “By that do you mean sex in general or blowjobs?”
The sun is setting outside the wide, open windows of the bedroom, and the temperature has dropped in the past couple hours, but the breeze making its way inside the loft feels refreshing after the painfully long and hot summer Los Angeles has been made to bear this year.
“Both, I guess,” Eddie says as he raises his upper body from the mattress, resting his weight on his bent elbows so he can look at Buck better.
His hair looks ruffled, probably both from Buck’s fingers running through it and from his head resting on the pillows for so long. It’s getting longer than it’s been in a while, but it still looks shorter than it was when they first met. Buck thinks any hairstyle looks great on Eddie, but he has to admit his current one is certainly growing on him more each day.
“You tell me every time we’re in the middle of something. Every. Time.” Buck emphasizes each of the last two words by taking a step closer to the bed.
It’s not an exaggeration in the slightest: Buck’s been with many people, but none of them as generous with their praise and their compliments as Eddie. It has made Buck become addicted to it, has made the thirst for the reassurance that has always existed within him transform into an uncontrollable one. But it has also made him feel invincible, it has given him a confidence that he used to have to fake when it came to touching other people with intent.
Some of that self-assurance must show on his face, maybe in the form of the smile he’s been trying to bite back, because Eddie groans, letting himself fall back on the mattress. The dramatic nature of the move makes Buck chuckle as he reaches the bed.
“I take it back. I don’t want to tell you anymore. You’ll get arrogant about it,” Eddie says, but the way his eyes travel the length of Buck’s body only serves to make Buck feel more confident, more assured.
Slowly, letting the anticipation of the movement grow inside himself and also within Eddie, Buck rests his right knee on the bed near Eddie’s hip. He plants his right hand next to Eddie’s left shoulder, and then his left hand next to Eddie’s right shoulder. Finally, he swings his left leg over Eddie’s lower body, straddling Eddie and leaving him trapped between the mattress and Buck’s body. Still, he hovers over Eddie, not letting their bodies actually touch.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m already arrogant about it,” Buck says, lowering his voice as he lowers his body as well, his chest only an inch away from touching Eddie’s, his ass an inch away from resting right over Eddie’s dick.
Buck watches the way Eddie’s Adam’s apple moves as he swallows harshly. There’s a mark in the shape of Buck’s mouth right on the middle of Eddie’s collarbone, just like Buck knows there are scratches in the shape of Eddie’s fingernails on his own back.
The brown in Eddie’s eyes has grown darker and yet his gaze hasn’t lost its softness. The air is charged between them, but Buck can’t tell what holds more power in the space they’re sharing: their attraction or their affection. Their desire or their intimacy.
“No, you’re not,” Eddie argues, and his voice hits Buck right in the heart. It’s the words and the delivery, both. “That’s why I like to remind you.”
When Eddie’s left hand settles on Buck’s right cheek something unfurls deep inside Buck’s chest, something Buck hadn’t even known was in him all along and yet is obvious to him now. Eddie’s thumb lightly caresses Buck’s under-eye, the high part of his cheekbone, the slope of his nose, leaving behind sparks in its wake.
“You’re good at the sex and the blowjobs, Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck bites his bottom under the force of Eddie’s earnestness. “You’re just really good.”
It feels like they’re talking about something other than the sex, suddenly, and those blurry distinctions between their friendship and their being more seem to get even more indistinguishable. All of the things Buck has been avoiding thinking about start knocking hard against the walls of Buck’s brain, demanding to be let out, demanding to be seen and heard.
Long gone are the days of convenient and detached car hook-ups. Long gone are the days of tentative and unsure friendship.
Maybe, there could be a way to fit both new realities into one. Maybe, it’s time to talk about the kisses, and the wandering hands, the moans and the tangling of sheets. But maybe it’s even more important to talk about the zoo trips with Christopher and the family dinners at the Diaz house, about the joint grocery lists and the late nights of drinking beer in comfortable silence.
Eddie kisses Buck then like he’s got something to prove, and Buck feels like there is a chance he’s beginning to put together the clues.
He’ll say something soon. He’ll trade Eddie for the puzzle pieces that he’s still missing and, together, they will create the entire picture. They will draw the road map to the next step of them.
Soon .
He feels like he’s nearly ready.
_______________________
Only three weeks later Eddie asks Ana Flores out on a date, and Buck feels like he’s lost something that he desperately wanted to make his.
Looking back on things during the next few months, Buck will wonder whether he should have realized what was about to happen. He will lose his mind analyzing every single detail in his last few times with Eddie, he will dissect every word in their conversations only to come up with an empty answer time and time again.
During his kinder days, Buck will admit there was nothing he could have done differently. He’ll understand that the only sign he could have picked up on was the lack of sex they had the last few weeks before Eddie became a taken man again. And even that wasn’t an unusual thing for them, not with the jobs they have, not with the busy lives they lead.
In his crueler states of mind, Buck will pick and choose about a hundred different things he might have done that prompted Eddie to push him aside.
Perhaps the worst part of it all is that, apart from their sex once again ending, nothing else changes between them. Eddie doesn’t really push him aside, even if Buck takes the end of their unspoken arrangement as a slight.
Their friendship is stronger than ever, Buck’s relationship with Chris flourishes with each passing day they spend together, and Eddie makes sure Buck knows there is space for him in his life still.
But then, every night Buck goes home to an empty apartment that holds dozens of memories of Eddie and yet nothing of him at all.
The day Buck meets Ana Flores for the first time he’s not having a kind day, but he’s not exactly in a cruel state of mind either.
He has just opened the front door to the Diaz house with his key and is pushing it closed with the heel of his right foot when a figure comes up to meet him in the living room. The woman is a stranger and yet she isn’t, and the look on her face tells Buck his image must also be familiar to her even though they’ve never really seen each other before.
“Oh, I thought you were Eddie,” she says, her hands clasped in front of her, the light color of her dress bringing out the deep red lipstick she’s wearing.
Unfairly, the first thing Buck’s brain does is catalog every single similarity and difference that he can notice between her and Shannon. Ana appears to be taller than Shannon was, but she seems to be just as slim. Her skin is darker, her eyes too, but her hair reminds Buck of Shannon’s, both curly, both shiny and perfectly framing beautiful faces.
Then, even more unfairly, Buck’s brain takes this information and seems to want to contrast it against everything Buck knows about himself.
“I’m sorry, I was just…” Buck doesn’t finish the sentence, not just because he doesn’t know how to do it but because his brain keeps trying to shout comparisons at him, most of them not really good for his self-image.
“Eddie went to the store for a minute,” Ana says, an explanation for something that Buck didn’t ask.
Words fail Buck despite him knowing he should respond to her, maybe offer up his own explanation about his unexpected presence in the house. Instead, silence traps them uncomfortably as Buck avoids Ana’s eyes, Christopher’s backpack hanging from his left hand, the real reason he’s even here.
Two seconds pass at most, but they feel eternal enough that Buck’s mind keeps echoing Ana’s name in Eddie’s voice for a lifetime, although he’s only heard Eddie say it a few times. This woman in front of him - Ana , Eddie’s voice reminds him-, who Buck wants to label a thief even though she has nothing that belongs or used to belong to Buck. Not a person, nor a place, nor a feeling.
“I just realized I haven’t even introduced myself.” Her voice is soft, and she sounds a little ashamed, and Buck wills his eyes to focus on her to spare her some of the unnecessary embarrassment. “I’m Ana Flores.”
Buck knows, and Ana knows he knows, but they’re still at a point where they have to keep up some polite and meaningless pretenses.
Ana’s hand is extended towards Buck, and he takes it carefully in his for a short handshake, his brain immediately latching onto the softness of her skin against the roughness of Buck’s callouses.
“I’m Buck,” he says, despite how silly the nickname sounds in comparison to her full introduction. Despite how he knows Ana obviously knew who he was the minute she saw him.
Once again, silence settles between them, and Buck is torn between letting it grow until it consumes them both and breaking it to spare them the pain. There is nothing he can say, or at least nothing he really feels like he wants to say. There are only two words in the entire English vocabulary that he and Ana share and Buck doesn’t feel prepared to trade Christopher’s name with her, to be the one to bring up Eddie in her presence.
His brain keeps betraying him every second, by making him notice the way Ana’s jacket lays so naturally on the back of Eddie’s couch, by making him look at her bare feet on the wooden floors, by failing to recognize the new scent floating around the house, more citrusy than usual.
Buck hasn’t taken off his jacket, his shoes are still on his feet, and he misses the vanilla scent that used to permeate every room of the Diaz house.
In the end, Ana is the one who breaks the silence again.
“Christopher talks a lot about you,” she says, the name strangely familiar in her mouth. “Eddie too.”
Has Eddie told you I know what his come tastes like? Has he told you he once made me orgasm three times in less than an hour? Buck thinks. Has he told you why? Why you? Why not me?
The words don’t leave Buck’s mouth, they stay on his tongue, their taste bitter. He simply aims a smile at her as he thinks of what he can say next that will get him out of the house faster without making it obvious that he’s running away.
That is when the door opens behind him and Eddie walks in.
“Ana, I— Buck?”
The sound of the front door closing punctuates Eddie’s surprised statement, but Buck doesn’t turn around to look at him. His eyes stay focused on Ana and the soft smile that brightens her face as she gazes at Eddie.
If only Buck could turn back time and decide that returning Christopher’s bag on a Saturday evening wasn’t such a pressing matter after all. If only he could go back to that last time in his bed and stop the world as he gazed down at Eddie, Eddie’s warm hand on his cheek. If only Buck could turn back time and refuse that first kiss, the one after Shannon, but also, maybe, the one before Shannon as well.
It takes Eddie only three steps to reach Ana from the front door, and then Buck is looking at the both of them standing next to each other.
“I didn’t know you were coming by,” Eddie states, and Buck would almost say he sounds nervous, except he doesn’t, not really. It’s something else, something subtler than nerves.
Buck has his response ready to go when his eyes catch on the movement of Ana’s left arm as it wraps around Eddie’s waist, her right hand coming to rest over Eddie’s chest, close to where Eddie’s St. Christopher’s medal usually lies. Eddie’s mirror move takes a heartbeat to come, and when his arm finally settles around Ana’s shoulders it does so slowly, as if with hesitation.
Eddie and Ana paint a magnificently beautiful picture in front of Buck, one that brings a familiar feeling of yearning back to Buck’s heart, a feeling that used to be all-encompassing but now has been branded with a first and last name.
Still, there is something missing in the way Eddie and Ana hold each other. The problem could be that Buck’s brain is still comparing everything in front of him to the image of Eddie and Shannon. Or worse, the problem could be that his heart can’t stop contrasting the Eddie in front of him with the Eddie Buck had begun to convince himself could one day be his all those months ago.
“Buck?”
His name falling from Eddie’s mouth brings Buck out of his head and back to the moment in front of him, but Buck isn’t sure which of the two options is more torturous.
“I had to return Christopher’s bag,” Buck says as he raises the item in question slightly before finally placing it on the floor next to the wall.
“Right. Thank you,” Eddie says. His eyes fleet between Ana and Buck once before they focus on Buck’s face. Buck’s own gaze meets Eddie’s head on although every cell inside his body is asking Buck to look away. “You could sta—”
“I should go,” Buck says, and he swears Eddie’s arm tightens around Ana’s shoulders at his interruption. “Leave you guys to your night together.”
The words burn as they leave Buck’s throat, and though he doesn’t expect Eddie to refute his offer the fact that Eddie just nods makes Buck’s chest bury his heart alive under its weight.
With his hand poised on the doorknob, Buck finds the last of his strength and he turns his head around to look back at Ana, hoping that the smile on his face looks genuine. “It was nice to meet you, Ana.”
“You too, Buck,” she says back to him, but Buck opens the door and leaves the Diaz house before he can read anything else on her expression.
He leaves the Diaz house behind that day and in it he leaves the last of the hope he had been carrying with him.
This time, despite Buck being self-aware enough to know there is something he could mourn -the part of Eddie he’s lost, the part of Eddie he could have had, the part of himself he gave away and hasn’t gotten back- he refuses to do so. He sinks his sadness and hides his anger. He seeks a change and chases a happiness he isn’t sure he could bear to hold.
Taylor struts back into his life and Buck chooses to believe it must mean something, even though he’s got previous proof that sequels tend to never be better than the original works. She tells him they work better as friends, and though Buck respects that he has enough friends to know that’s not what he and Taylor are, nor what they could ever be.
For a while things feel like they could get back in rhythm. For a while, the prospect of a future starts getting a little clearer and more hopeful, even if the image of it doesn’t fit with the one Buck had crafted once upon a time.
For a while, Buck starts to believe that maybe what he thought he saw months ago -what he thought he wanted- was just the product of a lonely heart that had started craving for something that had nothing to do with Eddie and everything to do with Bucks’s wider need for love.
Some days, he believes it better. Other days, typically when Eddie touches him more than usual or he’s spent long hours with both him and Christopher, Buck knows he’ll never be able to fully convince himself.
But things are fine. They’re fine. Maybe even on their way to good.
One day, Eddie might become a husband, just like he used to be. One day, Buck might get a chance to be a husband as well. And if Buck had once, in passing, thought that they could have been each other’s he’ll chalk it up to sex always complicating everything, to sex clouding minds and confusing hearts.
_______________________
And then Eddie gets shot in the middle of Los Angeles and Buck tastes Eddie’s blood in his mouth, and he realizes his heart will stop beating the moment that Eddie’s does as well.
_______________________
And then Eddie tells Buck he’s named in his will as Christopher’s guardian in case of Eddie’s death, and Buck realizes he’ll never have what he so desperately wants.
_______________________
And then Eddie breaks up with Ana. And then Taylor tells him she loves him and Buck says it back. And then, and then, and then .
_______________________
And then Eddie leaves the 118.
_______________________
Buck kisses Eddie exactly two weeks after Eddie’s last shift with the 118. It also happens to be exactly 48 hours after he breaks up with Taylor.
It’s the first time Buck has been the one to start this thing between them. He’s initiated sex before, sure, but always after Eddie had already taken the first step to include sex into their friendship.
He doesn’t plan for it, it just happens. He’s at the Diaz house, and Christopher has just gone to bed, and Eddie is doing the dishes while very inconspicuously trying to avoid Buck’s gaze. They haven’t talked about Eddie leaving, or about Buck’s break up, or about Christopher’s growingly sarcastic remarks. They haven’t talked in a while, and Buck is ready to change that.
But then, after he says Eddie’s name and Eddie turns to look at him without turning off the tap in the sink, something inside Buck snaps. He doesn’t want words, or explanations. He wants Eddie. He’s wanted Eddie for years. He wanted him when they gave each other handjobs in the back of Buck’s car and they were starting to try their hand at being friends. He wanted him when they became best friends. He wanted Eddie when they became best friends with benefits. He wanted him when they were best friends that were dating other people.
He wants Eddie. He wants and wants and wants, and though Buck’s life has always been, in one way or another, about the inherent pain brought forth by longing for things he’ll never get to have, he’s never hurt as much as he does every time he’s reminded that Eddie isn’t for him.
This time, Buck kisses Eddie like he’s the one with something to prove, although Buck doesn’t even know what that thing is. It isn’t his love, of that he is sure, because despite the undeniability of it Buck’s still working hard at concealing it, more afraid than ever that showing it will be the last blow that causes Buck’s and Eddie’s friendship to explode.
Maybe, his kiss is meant to prove to Eddie that he’s there, still there, even despite their distance, and the anger that shimmers inside his soul, and the silence that grows between them with each passing second.
Maybe, the kiss is meant to be proof for Buck himself that he exists, despite the sadness that threatens to consume him, despite the uneasiness that plagued his body during his whole relationship with Taylor, despite the affection that drowns him unpleasantly every single day.
For a second, as Eddie pulls away from the kiss forcefully, Buck believes that he’s destroyed everything. Finally, he’s done it. But it only takes a heartbeat for Eddie to close the water tap, face Buck properly and frame his face with his hands to steal his breath again.
The force of Eddie’s body colliding against his makes Buck have to take a couple of steps backwards until his back hits the fridge, the little family of magnets digging into his spine. He doesn’t feel the discomfort of it, however, because his world has been completely reduced to Eddie’s lips on his, Eddie’s hands under Buck’s t-shirt touching his waist, Eddie’s leg between his pressing against Buck’s dick.
A wanton noise claws its way out of Buck’s chest and slips into Eddie’s mouth just as Eddie’s tongue twists itself around Buck’s. Any other time Buck would be embarrassed of showing such raw desperation but thinking through the lust fog is becoming more and more difficult the longer Eddie touches him.
“Buck,” Eddie moans, only separating their lips enough to form the words properly. “We need to— Bedroom.”
The path there is marked by their inability to separate from each other, by Eddie shushing him to remind Buck that Chris is asleep in his room, by the sparks that travel through all of Buck’s body following the pattern of Eddie’s fingertips.
If Buck had to count the number of times he’s been in Eddie’s room he would run out of fingers to do so, but if he had to count the number of times he’s been in Eddie’s room for something meaningful -something other than quickly grabbing a sweatshirt to borrow, or dropping Eddie’s share of the laundry that Buck did for him- he could probably use just one hand.
One single finger would suffice to count the number of times Buck has found himself inside the bedroom while Eddie’s kissing the life out of him. This time. One single time. Buck tries not to linger too much on the thought, his heart already too fragile.
There’s nothing complicated about Buck falling back on Eddie’s bed, his body bouncing lightly as Eddie’s soft mattress welcomes his weight and then Eddie’s as Eddie positions himself on top of Buck. There’s nothing complicated about their undressing, about their bodies touching from head to toe, about them rubbing off against each other slowly, swallowing each other’s sounds, coating each other’s skins with their come.
It is, maybe, the simplest of times they’ve ever had, just body against body. No finesse to it, no talent. Just instinct and drive.
And yet it is so complicated.
It is complicated for weeks and weeks after, as they keep entangling themselves in each other and Buck’s soul becomes heavier with the ever-growing feelings it harbors.
Every time it happens, it happens in Eddie’s room. It’s funny, in a way, that it seems to be that they always have to confine themselves to one space: Buck’s Jeep in the very beginning, Buck’s loft later on, Eddie’s bedroom now. It’s devastating, in every single sense, that Buck has to pick his body up from Eddie’s bed, pick his clothes up from the floor, and pick his heart up from the hell Buck is putting it through constantly.
But he can handle it, Buck reassures himself each time. He’s made his decision and his decision is that if this is the part of Eddie that he can ever aspire to have Buck will take it. A little bit of Eddie is worlds better than all of someone else.
So Buck swallows his heart with every touch, and he tries to ignore how these days, despite how Buck and Eddie are further away than ever -emotionally, as they’ve been avoiding the implications of their silences; physically, as Buck spends every day at work wrong footed-, he and Eddie are having sex more regularly than they’ve ever been before.
It all comes crashing down on him soon enough.
_______________________
Having Eddie spread out underneath him in Eddie’s bed is like all of Buck’s dreams coming true at once. It never gets old. It never stops feeling like being given the greatest gift Buck could ever ask for.
Miles and miles of golden skin stretch in front of Buck, its dew brought on by the sweat coating Eddie’s body as he twists against the dark gray sheets of his mattress. It’s difficult to choose one single spot to focus his gaze, his hands and his attention on, so Buck futilely tries to explore everywhere at once.
His lips flutter from Eddie’s neck to his shoulders to the center of Eddie’s chest. His hands caress a path from Eddie’s hips to his thighs and then to his hips again. Buck’s eyes look deep into Eddie’s but then move towards Eddie’s lips and finally settle on the place where Buck’s lower body is about to fully meet Eddie’s.
They’ve been lost in each other for what feels like centuries but is probably closer to an hour.
The Diaz house is empty except for them, Christopher away at a birthday party for the evening, and Buck has been using the rare privacy to his advantage, determined to make Eddie lose his mind to the point of no return.
It’s been a slow-going process: a lick to Eddie’s dick followed by a sigh, a flick to Eddie’s nipple met with a groan, his fingers opening Eddie up as the sweetest of moans leave Eddie’s lips.
All of it has been leading them up to this.
“Are you sure?” Buck says again, probably the third time he’s asked the question tonight.
The tip of his dick is barely grazing Eddie’s hole, and though Buck trembles with the need to finally push further he finds himself afraid to do so.
Part of it is needing Eddie’s constant reassurance that this is something he wants as well, that at no point has he ever changed his mind, or felt like it’s something he has to do more for Buck than for himself. Part of it is knowing this is the one thing Buck won’t be able to come back from, knowing that as soon as it happens Buck will have signed away all his hope of ever walking away with any part of his being intact.
The push and pull of lust and love. The push and pull of life and death.
A tiny whine escapes Eddie’s throat and lodges itself right in between Buck’s fourth and fifth ribs. Eddie’s left hand raises from the mattress, and clasps the back of Buck’s neck tightly as Eddie’s eyes hold Buck’s gaze steadily.
“Please,” Eddie answers, his pleading erasing the last of Buck’s reservations. “Please, Buck.”
It takes the tiniest of moves for Buck’s dick to push into Eddie’s hole for the first time.
Warmth immediately envelops Buck, and his knees shake against the mattress where he’s positioned in-between Eddie’s legs. His arms frame Eddie’s head as his elbows rest just above Eddie’s shoulders, Buck’s hands gripping the pillow where Eddie’s head is resting tightly with his fingers.
Every inch of him that Eddie slowly takes is an inch of his soul that Buck gives away forever.
Despite the generous amount of lube that Buck used while opening Eddie up for him, Eddie’s walls are tight around Buck’s dick. It’s impossible to ignore that this is the first time Eddie is letting any other person do this, and Buck finds it impossible to stop the rush of excitement and possessiveness that grips him.
“Okay?” Buck asks, as he shifts his weight to his left arm so he can use the fingers of his right hand to touch the place where Eddie’s body is taking Buck in.
The response Eddie gives is wordless but not soundless, just a nod accompanied by a low groan that makes Eddie’s chest vibrate under Buck’s. Eddie’s eyes are closed and Buck wants to kiss his eyelids as he sinks all the way into Eddie.
He doesn’t do it, instead opting to bury his head against Eddie’s neck as he buries his dick fully into Eddie.
A heartbeat passes, and then two. Buck’s whole body feels like it’s being electrocuted over and over again, and Buck sinks his teeth into the side of Eddie’s neck as he desperately tries not to move.
“Evan,” Eddie says right into Buck’s ear, his voice rough and deep. Buck immediately knows he’s done for. “I need you to fuck me like you mean it. Now.”
Immediately, Buck drives his hips away from Eddie’s, his dick almost slipping out before he pushes back in at the last second. Eddie’s hips lift off the mattress, his legs tightening around Buck’s waist as the fingers of his left hand grip Buck’s hair and tug on it. The jolt of pleasurable pain that runs down his spine makes Buck’s hips unconsciously push into Eddie once more.
A loud moan resonates around the room, and Buck picks up his head from Eddie’s shoulder to look down at him. This is exactly what Buck was after when he first kissed Eddie against the doorway of his bedroom as soon as he was back from dropping Christopher off at his friend’s house.
This, Eddie uninhibited. This, Eddie free. Free with his sounds and his pleasure and himself.
It didn’t start off slow and sweet but there was no other way it could have gone, not really. Not when being inside Eddie makes everything else feel so unimportant. Not when Buck can see that Buck being inside him is what is driving Eddie to the gates of paradise as well.
So when Buck puts his hands on the back of Eddie’s knees for leverage, he does so softly. And when he starts to thrust his hips again and again into Eddie it’s with reverence.
And when Buck speaks next, it’s in a loving whisper, the words so revealing they make Buck feel more naked than being actually naked does. “I want to see you come for me, Eds.”
It only takes a few more thrusts, Buck trying to aim them perfectly but knowing there is an erratic pace to them, for Eddie to come untouched. His face goes lax, his mouth opens, and a soft sob follows his release, the sound of it louder than anything Eddie has ever allowed himself during sex with Buck.
Not even a second passes before Eddie uses the hand he’s got in Buck’s hair to guide Buck’s head down, until their faces meet and Eddie captures Buck’s lips in the sweetest and most beautiful kiss he’s ever been given.
That’s when Buck comes.
And that’s when Buck swears he can finally feel his heart breaking irreparably.
He doesn’t move, both because he doesn’t think his body could take it yet and because he can’t find it in himself to pull away just yet. He knows this was the first and last time he’ll allow himself to have this. Not even his self-harming and self-punishing tendencies can keep him coming back to this kind of joy and pain.
Eddie starts to wriggle under Buck, in a way that suggests Buck’s entire weight being on top of him is getting uncomfortable, but when Buck tries to pull away Eddie’s hand on his hair tightens as his other arm wraps around Buck’s shoulders.
“Not yet,” Eddie whispers right into Buck’s mouth, like he’s trying to use his words to give air to Buck’s lungs. “Stay.”
Buck wants to. He wants, and wants, and wants .
“I can’t—” His voice breaks, and small quivers travel through his body, imperceptible for anyone else but him if not for how close Buck’s and Eddie’s bodies are, one on top of the other, Buck still inside of Eddie. “I can’t.”
Very slowly, Buck pulls out of Eddie, stubbornly keeping his eyes on Eddie’s face despite how badly his heart hurts just to make sure he isn’t hurting him. If Buck were to look down he’d probably be able to see his come trickling down the back of Eddie’s thighs, but Buck holds onto the last of his self-preservation instincts and keeps his eyes on Eddie’s face.
“I can’t,” Buck repeats, and he’s pretty sure this time he sounds more convinced, more resolute.
But again, as he tries to move, Eddie’s grip on him stops him.
“Yes, you can,” Eddie says, and the conviction in his voice halts Buck more effectively than his hold does. “Buck… You can .”
His eyes say everything else. Or at least Buck thinks they do. There is something in them that Buck has never seen before. There is something in them that has always been there, perhaps since their very first kiss, but now shines a lot more brightly. It’s the convergence of these two things that has Buck’s stomach filling with butterflies, even as Buck tries to control his treacherous hope.
The hand on the back of Buck’s head begins to move delicately towards Buck’s face until Eddie’s palm is cupping Buck’s cheek. His thumb traces the bridge of Buck’s nose, then gently taps the tip of it before traveling down towards Buck’s lips, where it presses onto Buck’s bottom lip as it rests there.
“I’m not letting us walk away from this now,” Eddie says, and Buck tries to pay attention to his voice and the way Eddie’s hand on his back seems to be tracing letters, but he feels overwhelmed. Taking a single breath is becoming more and more difficult as Eddie keeps talking. “Not after this. I’m not one to make the same mistake twice. Or I guess in this case three times.”
Buck’s next inhale is ragged, and the trembling of his limbs is impossible to ignore now.
“I have just been waiting for you to catch up this time, Buck.”
It can’t be. Buck knows it can’t be and yet the words can’t mean anything else. But it’s just sex. It’s only ever been sex.
“I’ve only slept with four people in my entire life, Buck, including you,” Eddie says, refuting the words Buck must have spoken out-loud without realizing it. “I don’t think I even know how to do just sex .”
Closing his eyes tightly, Buck shakes his head, as if the simple movement will wake him up or reset his brain somehow. The feel of Eddie’s naked skin under his, the warmth of Eddie’s breath colliding against his neck, and the suggestion of light behind his closed eyelids lets Buck know he isn’t dreaming, it serves to remind him that this is real. Eddie’s words are real. And they still make no sense.
“I don’t— I don’t understand. Since when?” Buck keeps his eyes closed as he asks the question, his mind working through the hundreds of memories it has collected of Eddie, trying to make sense of the why’s and the how’s. There’s too many of them and Buck is unable to think clearly. Eddie is too close. His words are too disarming.
“I think maybe since the first time,” Eddie answers, and his voice has dropped into a whisper.
Buck opens his eyes at the admission and he finally finds the strength to plant his hands on the mattress and raise his upper body away from Eddie’s. The cool air of the room makes goosebumps appear on Buck’s chest, although the soft look on Eddie’s eyes might have something to do with it as well.
“You mean since before Shannon came back?” Buck says disbelievingly, remembering those first few times that meant nothing and yet meant enough to still stick in his mind.
“I mean since the very first time I kissed you in your Jeep because I had just seen you do a rope rescue for the first time and I had never felt so turned on in my entire life,” Eddie admits, chuckling lightly as he says the words.
His hand has left Buck’s cheek, but only so it could settle on Buck’s chest, right on top of Buck’s heart. Buck wonders if Eddie can feel how fast it’s beating. Buck wonders if Eddie knows it’s because Buck’s heart is trying to make it home to where it belongs: Eddie’s own chest.
Eddie’s last words swim around Buck’s brain, aimless and relentless. The very first time they kissed Buck was still reeling from the hurt of Abby. The very first time they kissed Eddie had made it seem so casual, so easy. The very first time they kissed has never felt as important as other times. But Eddie says since the first time they kissed and suddenly the moment shifts and gains new clarity.
Since the first time they kissed. Over three years ago now. Buck can’t begin to count the number of life-changing events that have happened since then. Some of them Buck can wrap his head around, others still elude him.
Since the first time they kissed. Countless shifts, hundreds of movie nights, dozens of trips to the zoo, some heart-to-hearts, although probably fewer than they should have had. The truck bombing, the tsunami, the well, the shooting. Some of these things Buck has processed, others he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to.
Since the first time they kissed. Shannon. That Buck can understand. But—
“Ana.”
The name tastes sour in his mouth, like food that has gone way past its expiration date and yet Buck is stubbornly trying to eat.
The expression in Eddie’s face twists minutely for a millisecond, and his fingers curl around Buck’s pectoral muscle before they relax again. The touch feels both glacially cold and burningly hot, and Buck flicks his gaze down towards the spot Eddie is touching just to make sure his handprint hasn’t tattooed itself on Buck’s skin. He’s not sure he feels relieved or disappointed when his skin looks unmarked.
Returning his eyes back to meet Eddie’s, Buck finds himself lost in the love that Eddie’s gaze reflects. It’s impossible to miss now. Maybe it’s always been impossible to miss but Buck was too busy dwelling on his own love to pay attention to the one he was being given.
“Have you ever wanted something so badly that the mere idea of getting it scares you to death?” Eddie says.
They both know Eddie isn’t talking about Ana.
And they both know Buck understands.
When they kiss next it is impossible to figure out who starts it, but Buck can feel they’re both kissing each other like there’s something to prove.
They’re still naked, and Buck is still on top of Eddie, so many points of contact between their bodies, but the kiss is sweet, almost chaste. Their tongues only meet tentatively, once in Eddie’s mouth, once in Buck’s.
Buck doesn’t want the kiss to end, but for the first time ever he’s not afraid of it doing so. For the first time ever, Buck knows there will be many, many more to come. And even better than that, he knows many of them won’t even lead to sex. Good morning kisses, and goodbye kisses. Kisses just because. Cheek kisses, and forehead kisses. Kisses that prove that a lifetime together won’t be enough for them.
The kiss ends and Buck’s still able to breathe. He uses the air he gets on his next inhale to say, “Can you— I need you to tell me, please. In words. Just so I can know. I mean I know but just so I can—”
“I love you,” Eddie says, and Buck has never heard an interruption sound so beautiful.
“I love you too,” Buck says, and it’s only when the words finally come out that Buck fully understands.
Since the first time they kissed.
“I am so in love with you,” Buck says, and the words come easier, the full meaning of them unraveling as they leave Buck’s lips and slowly blossoming as the smile on Eddie’s face grows, showing in his cheeks and in his eyes.
“And I am so in love with you ,” Eddie whispers, the words meant just for them, just like the next kiss is.
And then, Eddie’s hands grab Buck’s ass and though every cell in his body lights up at the touch, Buck laughs, the sound of it muffled by Eddie’s lips on his.
It isn’t about the sex but it’s good to know they’re great at it already.
_______________________
The next time Buck and Eddie sleep together all they do is that: sleep. It’s the first time they’ve allowed it to happen, and as Eddie’s chest rises and falls under his head Buck lets the last thought in his mind be about love.