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The house is quiet—too quiet—without Chris’s laughter bouncing off the walls. Eddie lies belly-down on the rumpled corner of their bed, forearms braced against the mattress, fingers gripping the edge of the fitted sheet. The muscles in his back flex as he arches, presenting himself shamelessly, cheeks spread wide under his own hands. When Buck walks in, he palms the smooth, taut curves of Eddie’s ass, kneading with a roughness that makes Eddie groan into the pillow. The lube is cold when Buck slicks himself, but Eddie barely notices—not when Buck’s grip tightens, lifting him just enough to angle his hips, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Eddie’s entrance.
Eddie's all lubed up from earlier anal play. Eddie pushes back instinctively, breath hitching as Buck sinks into him with one smooth, relentless thrust. The stretch burns in the best way, Eddie’s thighs tensing before he hooks his legs around Buck’s waist, heels locking behind Buck’s lower back. Buck’s rhythm is unforgiving from the start—deep, purposeful strokes that carve out space inside Eddie like he’s mapping every inch of him. Eddie braces on his elbows, spine bowing as Buck drives into him with the precision of a man who knows exactly how to wreck him.
“God, I love your dick,” Eddie pants, voice wrecked.
Buck’s laugh is breathless against his shoulder. “Thanks, I chose it myself.”
Eddie huffs, halfway between a moan and a chuckle, as Buck’s hips snap forward again, burying himself to the hilt. The bed creaks under them, the headboard tapping the wall in a staccato rhythm that’s been familiar for months now. Buck’s hands slide up Eddie’s sides, thumbs pressing into the dip of his waist, holding him steady as he fucks him harder. Eddie’s thighs tremble where they’re clamped around Buck, sweat slicking the places their skin meets.
“You’re—” Eddie starts, but Buck’s next thrust punches the words out of him, replacing them with a broken gasp.
Buck leans over him, mouth hot on the nape of Eddie’s neck, teeth scraping the tendon there. Eddie’s fingers claw at the sheets. He’s close—has been since Buck first pushed inside—but Buck’s pace doesn’t falter, doesn’t give him a second to catch his breath. When Eddie comes, it’s with Buck’s name bitten into the pillowcase and the unmistakable press of Buck’s cock inside him, relentless even as Eddie tightens around him. Buck follows seconds later, hips stuttering, a groan muffled against Eddie’s shoulder.
They collapse together, Eddie’s legs finally unwinding, Buck’s weight a welcome warmth on his back. The house is still quiet. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.