Work Text:
Eddie always gets back pain after a long Hellfire session. Steve knows this, has heard Eddie complain, has watched him roll his shoulders and grimace. But it isn’t until they hold a session at Steve’s house that he finds out exactly why.
He doesn’t stop moving the entire three hours. He sits like a gargoyle, perched on the chair awkwardly, leaning over the table to move the figures around. He’s expressive, gesturing wildly and curling his shoulders when he takes on the role of the villain. It's no wonder he’s in pain.
So when the kids and Corroded Coffin boys start packing up, and Eddie finally relaxes, letting go of all the crazy characters, Steve drifts over without a thought. He rests his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the tense muscles there.
He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Eddie’s a loud guy, doesn’t stop talking and, well, Steve’s heard what he’s like getting comfy in bed. It still throws him for a loop when Eddie full-on, unbidden, honest-to-God, guttural, back-of-the-throat moans at the touch.
All heads turn towards them, a museum of expressions ranging from concerned to confused to disgusted. It’s silent, and then–
“What the fuck was that?” Mike asks, sneering like the little shit he is.
Steve thinks they both must look like deer caught in headlights, faces turning beet red.
Everyone, including Steve and Eddie, start tidying up at twice the speed, making excuses about curfews and parents. Everyone is out the door in record time, and soon enough, it’s just Steve and Eddie, standing alone in the hallway as they close the front door behind the last of the group.
Steve doesn’t waste any time, spinning Eddie around and kneading his knuckles into his shoulder blades, along his spine. Even without the element of surprise, Eddie is vocal as all hell, probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear as he groans and whines at each touch.
“Fucking hell,” he whimpers, as Steve hits a particularly tight knot near his neck. The sound runs through him like a hot knife through butter.
He leans forward, lips a breath away from Eddie’s ear. “Go upstairs, take your shirt off, lie on the bed. I’ll be right behind you.”
Eddie doesn’t hesitate, taking the stairs two at a time and nearly tripping himself up as he tries to pull his shirt over his head simultaneously.
Steve locks the front door – just in case any of the kids realize they forgot something in their haste – and heads up. He grabs some lotion from the bathroom cupboard on his way, and slides to a stop in his bedroom doorway to take in the sight of Eddie, sprawled out face-down on his neatly made bed. To Steve’s utter delight, he’s not just shirtless, but completely naked, ass out on display.
“Couldn’t keep your pants on, Munson?” Steve asks, crossing the distance and climbing onto the bed next to him. “That desperate?”
“Didn’t know what kind of massage this was gonna be,” Eddie says, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve can help but give him a gentle smack on the ass, just for being cheeky. Eddie lets out another moan at that, and Steve files that information away for another time.
He warms some lotion up between his palms and slides it over Eddie’s back, from the base of his spine all the way up to his shoulders, firm and smooth. Eddie immediately groans, deep and needy. Steve keeps working his way through each shoulder, smoothing out the knots one by one as Eddie keens and sighs and makes sounds Steve can’t even put a name to.
Once he’s worked through all the knots in Eddie’s back, he lets his hands slide down further, pressing his fingertips into the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass, watching the little white circles he leaves behind for a moment. Something possessive finds its way into Steve’s chest, makes him want to leave marks that will last a little longer.
“You can keep doing that,” Eddie murmurs when Steve stops. “Feels good.”
So Steve does. He keeps kneading and pressing at Eddie’s ass, stroking along where his thighs meet his cheeks, and then, in a moment of boldness, grips a cheek in each hand and spreads them slightly.
Eddie makes a noise so lewd and desperate that it almost makes Steve blush. His hips lift from the bed, pressing up into Steve’s palms and spreading himself open even more.
Steve was already sporting a decent semi because, hello, he’s rubbing lotion all over his very naked boyfriend. But now? He’s at full mast, hard as a fucking rock, could probably take someone’s eye out with one wrong move.
Spurred on by Eddie’s reaction, he does it again, a little more firm this time, more sure. “You like that?” he asks, and Eddie nods into the pillow, muffled moans making their way through the fabric.
Steve does it one more time for good measure, and Eddie lifts his head, looking over his shoulder. He looks absolutely fucking wrecked. Sounds it, too, when he asks, “Steve. Finger me?”
And Steve may not have been a star pupil in school, but he doesn’t need to be asked twice. He leaves one hand on Eddie’s ass, spreads him a little wider, and lets his other hand, still slick from the massage oil, circle his entrance. He can feel the heat, feel the muscles contracting in anticipation. His stomach flips.
He starts slow, sinking carefully into Eddie, ready to stop or retreat at the earliest sign of discomfort. But Eddie only lifts his hips again and moans, desperation on his tongue as he mutters expletives like they’re prayers.
And Steve’s fingered plenty of girls before, has always been good at it. But they always seemed like they were putting on a show, all high-pitched mewls and stroking Steve’s ego. Crying out his name and digging their nails into his skin to leave behind perfect half-moon marks.
Eddie, on the other hand, Steve could listen to forever. It’s not a show. In fact, it feels like something Steve shouldn’t be hearing, shouldn’t be watching. Something too private but also just for him. Something fragile and unbreakable at the same time. Dangerous and safe. Full of contradictions.
“Steve?” His name on Eddie’s lips breaks whatever trance he was in, and he snaps up, eyes meeting Eddie’s. “Do you… is it… can you fuck me?” He looks nervous for the first time, like he’s scared the answer will be no.
Steve leans forward, a bit awkwardly, crawling up far enough to plant a kiss on Eddie’s lips. “I literally want nothing more than that in the entire world right now,” he tells him, voice low and serious. And he means it. He hopes Eddie knows that.
Rummaging through the bedside drawer, Steve finds a condom quickly, and some lube for good measure. He rolls Eddie onto his side, curling around him from behind, keeping him close.
“You’re ready?” he asks, just to be sure.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie responds, with such conviction Steve can’t help but laugh a little. He kisses along Eddie’s shoulder and lines himself up, every ounce of his concentration on pushing in steadily, gently.
Steve’s pretty sure that at that moment, every sound in the world falls silent except for the panting breaths of Eddie Munson. Steve wraps an arm around his waist, hand pressed to his chest so he can feel Eddie’s heartbeat as it hammers against his rib cage.
And he waits. He waits until Eddie’s breaths even out a bit. Waits until his heart isn’t pounding quite so hard. He doesn’t even need to say a word, because before he can ask, Eddie turns his head and nods at him, and Steve starts to move.
Steve kisses every bit of Eddie he can reach as they move together and apart, quick pecks along his neck, nibbling at the shell of his ear, pressing soft lips to Eddie’s shoulder blades. When he runs out of places to kiss, he buries his face in Eddie’s hair and just breathes. Listens.
The sounds that Steve is quickly becoming so familiar with start to pick up, in both volume and pace. He matches the urgency, hips snapping faster.
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie whines, hand curling around to tangle in Steve’s hair. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“You’re perfect,” Steve whispers back, dropping his hand from Eddie’s heart to wrap around his cock instead. The touch makes Eddie cry out louder, somewhere between a groan and a sob. Steve sees Eddie’s hand shoot out, fingers clutching the sheets like his life depends on it as he curls in on himself, hips stuttering as he comes hard.
Steve isn’t far behind, surrounded by everything Eddie , and he’s pretty sure he babbles the whole way through it, spouting lovesick nonsense against the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder.
He knows they should shower, knows they’ve made a hell of a mess of the sheets and should probably change them. But all he manages to do is toss the condom out and grab a fistful of Kleenex before he tucks Eddie under the covers and curls up beside him.
“You okay?” Steve asks, brushing the stray hair from Eddie’s cheek and tucking it behind his ear.
Eddie doesn’t open his eyes, exhaustion written all over his face. “M’gon’ wax poetic ‘bout how you’re a sex god t’morrow. Right now, brain mush. Time sleep.”
Steve chuckles, tracing the lines of Eddie’s scars and muscles alike. “You sleep. I–“ he stops himself, changing gears because it’s far, far too early for that. “I really, really like you,” Steve says instead.
“Really, really like you, too,” Eddie mumbles, trailing off at the end and starting to snore softly.
Steve manages a whole four blinks before his eyelids refuse to open again, and he, too, falls asleep, dreaming of the day he’ll tell Eddie how much he’s deeply, disgustingly in love with him.