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The night is warm, music pulsing onto the sidewalk from inside. Eddie already feels flushed just standing in line. Wearing skirts does that to him. Especially skirts short as this, chains dangling from one hip nearly long enough to touch skin. Especially with Steve leaned against the brick with a cigarette between his knuckles, smoke swirling from it as he gestures to the guy in line behind them. Figures Steve struck up a conversation. He has that approachability about him, willing to talk to anyone and finding just which buttons to push to get them to open up.
Like he does with Eddie.
Catching Eddie’s eye, Steve winks, and with all the anticipation buzzing through him and turning his insides to jelly, Eddie’s knees nearly buckle. Then the bouncer ushers them forward, and they’re inside the club, bass bumping through the air, the floor, and into their bones.
Steve tucks Eddie’s hair back, lips caressing his ear as he asks, “Drinks or dancing first?”
Eddie smirks sidelong. “Drinks.”
As Steve weaves through bodies toward the bar, Eddie mourns the loss of his warm palm on the small of his back, but he’s quickly awash in the club atmosphere. He shouldn’t feel as safe as he does. It’s a risk going to gay clubs, but it’s worth it to feel himself blend into the mass of people losing themselves to the rhythm and collective euphoria. Shadows hide faces, hide his. Pink and blue lights flicker to the beat in the smoky haze overhead, a beat that bleeds into Eddie’s veins, urging him to move.
By the time Steve returns, drinks in hand, Eddie is swaying with both hands in the air. He drops them around Steve’s neck, forcing him to hold the drinks aside as Eddie drapes against him with a clumsy kiss.
“You haven’t even had a drink yet.” Steve laughs into his temple, kissing it and nudging him to straighten.
Eddie does but keeps his arms where they are. “Just feel good.”
“Yeah?”
Eddie nods.
“Wanna feel even better?” In the darkness, Eddie only glimpses flashes of Steve’s expression, but it’s enough to see that quirk of his eyebrow.
Plucking a shot from Steve’s hand, Eddie downs it, grimacing at the fire flooding his throat, then slams it on a nearby table and howls. Steve grins behind his own shot.
Glasses empty, Eddie draws him to the dancefloor. Heat and bodies envelop them, grinding against each other, but there’s only one body Eddie cares about.
As Steve grips his waist, fingers grazing the sliver of skin where his shirt rides up, Eddie is thrown back to that blur of a day years ago. Fear and pain and shrieking demobats and Dustin crying over him.
Then Steve’s hands on him.
He’d thought he’d died, waking into a kind afterlife with Steve Harrington carrying him, reassuring, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you help. Just fight, Eddie. Fight.” That’s all he remembers, Steve’s voice and hands on him.
Those same hands now sliding to the dip of Eddie’s spine, drawing him closer. Steve smiles as they move together. The tequila isn’t enough to have much effect, but Eddie floats on the music and motion of Steve’s body alone. His eyes drift closed, head tilting back. The familiar smells of tobacco, sweat, and cologne permeate the air.
Lips seal on his neck. He smirks, head tipping aside to give better access, and knows a bruise will bloom there. Maybe he’ll see it in the bathroom mirror in an hour or so. The anticipation zings right to his groin, but somebody bumps him into Steve, reminding him why he can’t fully enjoy himself just yet. Steve’s thigh wedges between his legs, grinding against the cage imprisoning Eddie’s cock. Eddie clutches his shoulders.
“Feeling restless?” Steve purrs.
Leaning back, Eddie catches his gaze before diving into a sloppy kiss, their lower halves undulating in a vague mimicry of dancing. As if anybody here is really dancing.
The kiss turns rough, teeth tugging Eddie’s lower lip, Steve’s tongue fucking into his mouth, exploring his palate, and sending tingles all the way to his toes. Eddie moans, and Steve swallows it. Hands tangled in Steve’s hair, Eddie angles his head to mouth along Steve’s jaw and cheek, coaxing him back down to his throat. Teeth latch on. Then soothing tongue. Eddie’s head dangles to the side, hands curving down Steve’s back to cup his ass, encouraging the roll of his hips. He can’t hear Steve’s breath, but he feels it, hot on already feverish skin. Feels the hardness against his groin as if mocking his own caged cock.
Whether Steve can hear it or not, Eddie tucks his lips against his ear, licks the shell, lets his breath tickle it as he says, “Gonna make me lose my mind. Shit, Steve. Feels so good.” Steve gropes his ass, teasing the butt plug. Eddie moans, “Oh, just like that, baby. Come on, I know you’re feeling it, know you love me like this, know it drives you crazy. Wanna feel you in me.” Fingers knead Eddie’s ass, bunching the skirt enough they skim the flesh left unprotected by his thong.
Eddie gasps as he’s whirled around, Steve grabbing his hip in one hand while the other snakes around his chest, grazing both nipples in the process, and grinding against his ass. The motion hikes up his skirt. At the feeling of denim on bare skin Eddie’s mouth falls open with something between a laugh and moan. Steve’s bulge nudges the plug with every rock of their bodies. A promise of what’s to come. Eddie cradle the back of Steve’s skull as he trails kisses along his shoulder.
When his lips find Eddie’s ear he licks gently and murmurs, “Gonna fuck you until you can’t talk.”
Eddie bites his lip and nods, arches against the hips grinding the plug deeper into him, flaring pleasure low in his belly.
“Just moaning and crying like an animal. All for my cock, right? All for me. Because you’re fucking made for me. Made to get fucked by—”
“Steve?”
Eddie’s eyes pop open. Steve reluctantly lifts his head. The voice nearly gets lost in the cacophony, but Eddie picks it out. Not just because it’s Steve’s name. No, Eddie knows that voice.
A burst of blue light. A ghostly visage in a sea of limbs and faces. Then it blinks out.
Tommy Hagan.
The brief glimpse sears into Eddie’s mind. Tommy’s lips parted, eyes wide, face pale and older than he last saw him years ago. Steve’s arms circle Eddie, hugging him closer even as their bodies still. The lights flicker, people jump and dance, but the three of them are frozen.
Then Tommy seems to register Eddie. Recognition slams into him so hard he stumbles back, nearly swallowed into the crowd, but his hand snaps out to fist in Steve’s shirt collar, yanking them all close.
“What’re you doing with him?” Tommy’s breath is hot between them, his eyes searching Steve’s face as if he’ll find some explanation outside the obvious.
Steve tries to shrug him off, but Tommy’s grip is desperate. Twisting to face Steve, Eddie worms an arm around him, between him and Tommy, who acts like Eddie doesn’t exist now, honed in on Steve.
“Piss off, Tommy. We’re a little busy here,” Steve says.
“Hey, no, you don’t get to just—”
“He said piss off, Hagan,” Eddie interjects.
Tommy’s attention switches to him as if just remembering he’s there. A sneer sours his features, but Eddie catches the tremble of his bottom lip. Looking back to Steve, Tommy inhales deep. “What, so—so we’re nothing now? Can’t even talk to an old friend?”
This time, Steve successfully dislodges him and shakes his head, already edging Eddie away as he shouts, “Glad you got out of Hawkins, man, but I’m not here for you.”
Over Steve’s shoulder, Eddie grins and sticks out his tongue. The returning glare is more than satisfying.
Once Tommy is out of sight, Eddie smooths Steve’s hair from his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie frowns, trying to study him in the shitty lighting, but Steve just shrugs and squeezes his waist.
“I just want to forget about him. I’m with you. He should get used to seeing that.”
A smile breaks across Eddie’s face, and he kisses Steve, groaning into his mouth as hands clutch his ass.
“Besides,” Steve says between kisses across Eddie’s cheeks, nose, eyelids, making him giggle, “why would I give a shit about him when you’re right here?”
Eyes heavy-lidded, Eddie lets Steve take most of his weight, swaying them to their own slow beat, an island of peace in the sea of chaos. They rock side-to-side for a bit, holding each other until Eddie swivels in Steve’s grasp. They’re front-to-back again, Steve coaxing Eddie’s skirt up with the roll of his hips.
Back where they started, Eddie teases Steve with his bare ass again, thong catching on denim and rubbing between his cheeks. Hands explore Eddie’s front. One winds upward, situating just below his jaw. The other wanders south, cupping his caged dick through his skirt.
That’s when Eddie spots him. Tommy Hagan glowering through the crowd, dark eyes venomous. Pretending not to notice, Eddie lets his mouth drop open around a keen even though it blends into the thunder around them.
Maybe Steve hears him because two fingers dip into his mouth as breath warms his ear again. “Ready?”
Sucking the fingers, twirling his tongue, and glancing to make sure Tommy is still watching, Eddie nods. They’ve done this before. Not often. It’s risky. But that’s the thrill of it.
The hand on Eddie’s cock lingers with a final pet up his happy trail then detours to his back end where it palms a handful then caresses over the base of the butt plug. One of their smaller ones. It doesn’t do much to stimulate, but it keeps Eddie open and ready.
As Steve jiggles the base, Eddie’s insides light up, his rim fluttering at the sudden movement. Then there’s a tug. Eddie bites his lip, gripping Steve’s arm and arching his spine, consequently pressing into the hand around his throat and grinning at the bubbly rush in his blood.
A kiss lands in his hair, a muttered, “Doing so good, Eddie. So good for me.”
Eddie’s eye shutter while Steve works. He makes quick work of extracting the plug and hooking it to one of the chains on Eddie’s skirt. One of Eddie’s brightest ideas. Even gets the extra spark of excitement as it bumps his thigh, out there in the open for all to see—if they cared.
Hot and heavy and thick, Steve’s cock glides through the cleft of Eddie’s ass. If there were enough light, they’d look obscene, Steve’s hand around Eddie’s neck, his skirt rucked high and barely concealing the tip of Steve’s dick moving up and down. But here, nobody would even care. If he paid enough attention, Eddie knows he’d find people grinding and fucking in the corners or on the dancefloor even more obviously than them. That’s where they’d gotten the idea. Nobody cares what anybody else is doing here long as everything is consensual, and when everybody is having fun, the shared ecstasy electrifies the air.
So, as Steve lines up with Eddie’s twitching hole, still slick with baby oil from Eddie working the plug in earlier, Eddie lets go. Of the fear, worry, stress, the laundry that needs doing back home, Wayne’s declining health, the Upside Down, Tommy Hagan’s stupid reappearance into their lives.
He lets go.
Steve slots into him easily. Barely three thrusts, and he’s seated to the hilt. No matter how many times he feels him inside, Eddie thinks he’s bigger than the last. How else is it he never fails to leave him full to the point of breaking?
Eddie curses the cage on his cock. It’s necessary with the skirt, but he wants so desperately to touch himself. Let his body rise toward release like it’s built to. But he’s not allowed to remove it. Only Steve. He gets to unwrap Eddie like a present.
“Stevie,” Eddie pants too thinly to be heard. Clearing his throat, he tries again, “Baby, so deep. Fuck, love the way you feel in me.”
The fingers on his throat clench slightly before gripping his chin and craning his head around until Steve’s lips find his. It’s a short and shallow kiss, but Steve is deep elsewhere. A circle of his hips reminds Eddie of that. Especially the brush along his prostate. Body seizing around the length inside him, Eddie tosses back his head and clings to Steve’s arm, relishing the helpless twinge in his cock and press of fingers into his neck as his knees fail because it’s all so much, the heat within, Steve sturdy behind him, the thump of music, bodies jostling all around.
Steve hugs him tight, free hand returning to fondle Eddie through his skirt. Speared on Steve’s cock, Eddie lets him take his weight. Knows he'll catch him.
As they find a rhythm, Eddie collects himself. Steve can’t fuck him properly, but the vibration of the music paired with the thrill of getting caught are enough to have Eddie tingling all over. They fall into a familiar dance. Grinding against one another, hips swirling, grip pulsing on Eddie’s throat.
Mind fuzzy with it all, Eddie’s vision blurs, but he still spots him. Still watching. Eddie matches Tommy’s eye contact and grins dopily before lifting both hands with middle fingers extended. While Tommy snarls or runs with his tail between his legs or pisses his pants or whatever pathetic reaction he has, Eddie doesn’t care as he pulls Steve over his shoulder into another kiss.
“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve mutters into his mouth. “So fucking—so fucking good. Need to fuck you right.”
“Yeah? That what you want, big boy?”
“Want you, baby. Wanna bend you over and fuck you until you scream my name. Fuck my come into you then plug you back up so it stays there all night.”
Eyes rolling back as he imagines it, Steve pounding into him until his voice eclipses the music and everyone knows he’s getting taken right in front of them, Eddie wants to scream right then and there. No fucking required. Well. A little.
Instead, he circles his ass and bows forward. He shakes his backside in a “dance.” When Steve grasps his hips with bruising strength, Eddie can’t help grinning and laughing and fucking back shallowly on his length. The position angles Steve along his prostate, and Eddie’s legs quiver with the too good of it all.
A palm on his belly straightens him upright and presses there, right where Steve plunges deep. Then the hand creeps lower.
Steve massages him through the skirt again and teases, “Poor thing needs some attention.”
Forcing Steve’s head down, Eddie growls into his ear. “Bathroom. Now.”
Lamenting they have to separate to move, Eddie whines as Steve pulls out, but then he’s stumbling between bodies with Steve’s vice grip on his wrist leading the way. They pass people drinking and laughing and making out and rutting like animals in heat. And maybe they are. Maybe they all are in this place.
The thud of the restroom door is like diving underwater. Music still thrums through the walls, but it’s muted. Once inside, Steve pivots and draws Eddie, who wobbles like a newborn deer, into his arms. They both giggle as Steve steadies him.
“Ready to lose your fucking mind?” Steve teases breathlessly, grinding against him absently.
Eddie smacks his chest and hisses, “There might be somebody in here.” He glances at the three stalls beside the urinals, two with closed doors.
Without looking, Steve yells, “Anybody mind if we fuck in here?” then grins at Eddie still slumped against his chest, jaw dropped. A beat passes. Steve’s hair wiggles as he shakes his head and kisses Eddie’s nose. “Guess they don’t mind.”
Eddie didn’t think he could love Steve more, but ever since that day in the boathouse, he’s proved him wrong time and time again. Eddie hopes he never stops.
Before he can get past Steve shouting about sex at an empty restroom, he’s dragged into the corner stall. It’s narrow, and Eddie’s feet are still clumsy, so Steve manhandles him on top of the toilet tank. When Steve turns from latching the door, his eyes zero in on Eddie tucking his skirt between his legs.
Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Getting shy all of a sudden?”
“Still not used to wearing these. Feel so fucking exposed when I sit down.”
Smirking, Steve parts Eddie’s knees and lifts the black fabric. It shouldn’t make Eddie burn the way it does. His cheeks heat and boots fidget on the toilet seat. From this angle, he can’t see it, but he almost physically feels Steve’s gaze on the thin, black triangle barely concealing his cock in its cage.
“Bet you’re dying to get free, huh?” Steve’s eyes are dark with want.
A want Eddie’s body matches. Swallowing hard, he manages, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
“Oh? Then you don’t mind keeping it on while I fuck your brains out? Keep your little dick all squished down. Keep you from coming like normal. Want me to wring a prostate orgasm out of you and make you come with your tiny cock?” Steve flicks it for emphasis.
Eddie’s eyelids flutter closed against a way of dizziness, head finding the tile wall. “Jesus H. Christ, Steve. Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know. I want—I wanna come.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Just—yes, okay? I want the cage off.”
“Mm. Ask me to take it off. Say it all pretty for me.”
Eddie opens his eyes to slant a look at him. “Stevie, take it off.”
Dropping the skirt, Steve crowds Eddie, arms bracketing him, breath hot on his lips, voice rumbling across his skin. “Beg me, brat.”
Eyes locked, Eddie smiles and tauntingly licks Steve’s lips before whispering, “Make me.”
Steve doesn’t move away or say anything, but a palm glides up Eddie’s thigh, underneath the skirt, spreading him wider and hitching the fabric to expose pale flesh. Eddie gasps at the first strike. His hips jump involuntarily as his inner thigh stings, fading into a tingle. While he gropes the spot, Steve’s attention sinks to Eddie’s mouth. He sucks Eddie’s bottom lip, teeth snagging.
Another slap on the other leg. It’s a shock without the warning, making Eddie whimper and snicker into Steve’s mouth. Spurred on, Steve hits the first leg again. Light, beginning smacks, hinting at more and setting Eddie’s gut aboil.
The next lands atop his thigh. When Eddie squeaks, he hears a sniffle echo and thinks it must be his own because tears sting his eyes. Not from pain. From Steve. His mouth, his hands, his breath, his words. The music. The toys and clothes and how much Eddie fucking loves Steve. Loves when he’s soft. When he’s mean. When he cries and when he murmurs Eddie’s name. When he holds him and makes him feel as safe as he did in his arms all those years ago. It’s all so much, swirling inside him, too much to contain, so it overflows. From his eyes, his mouth.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been babbling between kisses. “Love you—your touch, your face, your—laugh, your cock, your sense of—humor, your…”
Steve lets him ramble, ducking to mouth his pulse while his hands kick it up a notch. The first truly harsh strike shunts a sob from Eddie’s lungs, leaving him breathless.
“Okay?” Steve murmurs into his skin.
Humming around a gulp, Eddie says, “Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah.”
“Ready to beg yet?”
Eddie scoffs weakly. “Think that’s all it takes?”
Another slap. Another, a third, four, five, six. Three on the tender meat of each thigh in quick succession without allowing time to breathe.
Eyes wide, mouth agape, Eddie bows forward, gasping. Tremors attack his legs, instinctively drawing together, but Steve forces them apart.
“Open.”
When Eddie manages to look at him, a hot tear carves down his cheek. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ple-please take it off. I’ll be good. Please. I’ll be good now.”
Steve cups his face in both hands. Hands that burn from spanking Eddie’s thighs. They sear his cheeks, and his eyelids weigh heavily as he submits to the lure of that floaty headspace. A thumb wipes the moisture from under his eyes. He blinks blearily.
“So good, baby. Such a good boy,” Steve says.
Eddie’s lips stretch into a smile, and when Steve’s move against his own, he reciprocates clumsily, slobbering on them both. Then fingers replace the tongue.
“Open wide.”
Eddie obeys, tongue lolling like a dog as he pants. Fingertips skate along his tongue, dipping back over the bumpy part. When they retract, Steve grips his chin to hold him steady. The muscles in Steve’s neck and jaw undulate, and Eddie’s eyes already roll back in anticipation. Wet warmth splatters his lips and tongue, sending him over the edge. He shudders, groan interrupted by the return of those fingers, stirring the mix of saliva.
Sucking and laving them, Eddie watches Steve bite his lip while he watches Eddie. Once they’re messy and slippery, the fingers withdraw. The hand disappears beneath Eddie’s skirt. His breath hitches, eyes snapping to Steve’s, at the damp touch on his balls.
“Spread your legs,” Steve orders.
Eddie’s hips ache he’s spread so wide. As Steve massages the tender flesh, Eddie grips his shoulders. He grunts when his scrotum pops through the securing ring, then Steve slides off the contraption, and his cock pulses with the influx of blood, finally allowed to expand. Practiced hands attach the cage to the chain alongside their other toy, then Steve palms Eddie and cocks his head as if studying it. His knuckle strokes the frenulum, and Eddie’s skull bangs the wall. He loves and hates that little smirk Steve gets.
Steve ducks his head, and a string of saliva streams, long and thin, from his lips. When the line snaps and it lands, Eddie barely has time to gasp before Steve’s lips claim his, hand stroking Eddie’s eager erection.
At Eddie’s whimpering and mewling, Steve chuckles. “There you are. That’s my Eddie. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Eddie nods.
The grasp on his length tightens. “What do you say?”
“Tha-thank you.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for taking off the c-cage. Thank you for letting me get hard. Thank you for—hn!” Eddie quivers as Steve thumbs over the head, slicking them both in precum, torturing his slit and striking white-hot pleasure into Eddie. When he finds the breath, he wheezes, “Th-thank you for touching me.”
“You’re being so sweet now. Love it when you’re sweet and docile. Just for me, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, yes. Nobody else, never. Only you.”
“Wanna come, baby?”
“Please, please, yes. Anything. I’ll do anything. Please make me come.”
Steve leans back with that tiny tilt to his mouth that makes Eddie want to kiss him until he can’t breathe. “Gonna need you to stand, sweet thing,” says Steve. “Think you can manage that?”
Swallowing a groan, Eddie nods. A whine threatens to escape when Steve releases his cock, but he bullies it down, taking Steve’s offered hand and stepping down. He frowns at the squeak of rubber echoing off the tile then shakes his head. Must be his boots. It doesn’t matter because in the next instant, he’s bent over the toilet, hands braced on the wall, and one knee hiked onto the seat with Steve’s fingers knotted in his hair, arching his spine. Steve flips up the skirt. Butt cold from perching on porcelain, Eddie seeks the warmth of Steve’s palm as it massages the globes of his ass. Even the snap of the thong is welcome when Steve draws it taut and releases once, twice, then yanks it aside
There’s a rustle of fabric and clink of metal, then Steve grinds against him, gripping his hip for extra leverage. “Ready?”
Biting his lip against a moan, Eddie nods. His hole twitches as Steve’s cockhead rubs along it. Much of the baby oil is gone, so Eddie grits his teeth in preparation, but then he hears the familiar squelch and labored breaths of Steve jerking himself. He smears precum over the puckered ring a moment later. The fist in Eddie’s hair releases, then a thumb dips inside him.
Eddie widens his stance as much as he can and rocks back, fucking himself on it. It’s shallow and nowhere near enough, but it’s just to spread the slick and still shoots a pleasant tingle down his legs.
Before long, though, he’s a needy mess of drool and choked noises. “Please—need more.”
“Yeah, you look like it, pushing back like that,” Steve remarks. “Fuck, you’re squeezing so tight. Wouldn’t know you had a dick shoved up in you ten minutes ago if it hadn’t been mine.”
A squeak of rubber screeches, and not from their stall. Eddie’s eyes widen. The little sounds he’s been mistaking for his own—no. They aren’t alone. Eddie knows Steve heard it too, but glancing over his shoulder, Eddie finds he looks unfazed.
Eyebrow cocked, Steve asks plenty loud in the less-empty-than-they-thought restroom, “Think it’ll still fit?”
Eddie is grateful for the toilet and wall propping him up as his bones liquefy because that’s not what he’s asking.
Want to keep going?
Eddie doesn’t know when they developed their own unspoken code. He doesn’t care.
He just hopes beyond impossible hope the eavesdropper happens to be Tommy fucking Hagan.
Threading his voice with as much sensuality as he can, Eddie winks at Steve. “Might need a little help. You’re so big.”
A slow smile spreads on Steve’s face. There’s hunger and excitement there, loud and eager, but softer things lie underneath. Love, gratitude, reassurance, amusement. “Don’t worry,” Steve says. “I’ll get you nice and wet first.”
Then he spits. It echoes, and the sound travels under Eddie’s skin even deeper than the music as the resulting spatter drips down his crack. Without wasting another second, Steve thrusts in. Even with the depleted lubricant, it’s an easy glide, wrenching a wail from Eddie before he can hush it. Not that Steve minds. As Eddie’s hand claps over his mouth, the slap of flesh on flesh replaces his voice, Steve slamming into him with abandon. And why shouldn’t he? This isn’t their first time in here with an audience.
An audience that could be Tommy.
At a particularly hard thrust, Eddie can’t help dropping his hand with a groan in the hopes it somehow is Tommy, and he’s being forced to listen. The thought makes him insane. It’s almost distracting, but Steve knows his body well enough by now, so when he finds Eddie’s prostate, Tommy or no, it doesn’t matter. All he cares about is Steve’s long, gorgeous cock pounding that spot over and over, the cock he’s spent nights and mornings and afternoons and car rides and movie nights and concerts thinking about and worshipping. The one currently making him keen high and needy.
“That’s my good boy,” Steve sighs. “Fuck, you look so right like this. Offered up for me, this hole so hot and sucking me in. Can barely move you’re squeezing so hard.”
Eddie bites his lip and shifts back to meet each ram of Steve’s hips.
Chuckling, Steve strokes up his spine, rucking his shirt. “You got even tighter when I said that. You like that, huh? Like me telling you how perfect this little hole is.”
The cold of the tile wall on Eddie’s forehead is a drink of water in the desert because he’s already weaker than he thought possible, trembling and panting and so hot he should be melting over the porcelain. When Steve slides in and grinds roughly, angled just right, Eddie thinks maybe he does. Words certainly melt unbidden from his lips.
“Steeeve! Uhn—fuck! God! I can’t—oh, shit. Pleasepleaseplease.”
“Tell me, Eddie,” Steve rasps. Hearing his need rising only worsens Eddie’s. The hand creeping up Eddie’s spine fists in his hair and wrenches his head back, away from his cool relief. “Tell me what you need.”
“Ngh—you. Need you. Want-want you—come in—ahn!”
Steve leverages Eddie back hard with the hand in his hair, the other on his hip. Their bodies collide again and again and again, punching rhythmic moans from Eddie.
“Want my come, beautiful?”
“Please. Need it. Need it—Steve. So bad.”
Thrusts quickening, Steve chuckles breathlessly. “Can’t come without me filling you up, can you?”
Unable to speak, Eddie shakes his head as much as Steve’s hold allows.
“Fuck, can feel how close you are. Love the way you feel when you need just a little—” thrust, “more—” thrust, “me.”
Eddie screams as warmth spills inside him, eyes rolling back, bent leg bucking, cock kicking against his belly and shooting his own spend in a messy trickle down porcelain. It can’t be more than a few seconds before the white fades from his vision and he’s back on Earth, but the leftover fuzz in his mind lowers him gently, slowly. He quakes, simultaneously too cold and too hot. His insides blaze, but his skin suddenly chills from the sweat.
Still inside, Steve draws him upright, cradles him. “Thank you, baby. Thank you. That was so good. Love you so much.”
Eddie smiles, eyes fluttering closed, as he basks in the praise. “Love you,” he mumbles. Distantly, Eddie registers the harsh clatter of a stall door and patter of footsteps, then music pours into the room before fading again.
Steve snorts into his shoulder. “Guess they didn’t want an encore.”
“Their loss,” Eddie sighs, still drifting and relishing Steve’s arms around him, his length shrinking within.
Kissing up his neck, Steve asks, “Want me to plug you again? Make sure none of it spills out?”
Eddie nods, though he whines when Steve withdraws. Eddie is filled again in the next moment, but it’s hardly the satisfying, warm stretch he constantly craves. It does the job, though. He sighs and lets Steve hug him and rock them side-to-side.
“Cage?” Steve asks softly. He always goes slow when Eddie is floaty. It makes Eddie’s eyes sting.
Nodding, Eddie turns and lifts the skirt to let Steve wipe him down with toilet paper before gently reattaching the cage. Steve rewards him with a light kiss that makes Eddie’s lips tingle.
“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Steve says, stroking Eddie’s hair and kissing across his face.
Eddie nods, and in moments, Steve cleans up quickly then unlocks the stall door. Outside, the music flows through Eddie like he’s a conduit, reminding him of playing for a crowd, the exchange of energy between audience and performer. He smirks. His performance for the night is done.
They’re near the door when he thinks to cast about for a familiar face. Tommy probably already left—if that even was—
There.
Back at the bar. Chugging a beer, cheeks flushed and brow tense, Tommy Hagan glances up just in time for Eddie to smile and blow a kiss. Eddie glimpses the wreck of his expression, then somebody blocks his view, and that’s fine by him. Tommy doesn’t deserve to see Steve hook him around the waist and twirl him out onto the sidewalk. Spinning and stumbling, Eddie laughs as Steve steadies him. Eyes closed, he inhales deep, relishing the freedom and warmth of the night air.
“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Steve says, scooping him close and leaning against a brick wall.
“You’re gorgeous-er.”
“Mm, I may have gotten a C in English, but I don’t think that’s a word.”
Eddie shrugs and loops his arms around Steve’s neck. “There aren’t words enough to capture you anyway. You’re too much, Steve Harrington.”
“Too much? You going to get sick of me?”
“Never. Don’t you know by now? I’m insatiable.”
Steve laughs and kisses him, and maybe it’s not smart out here in the open, but being dumb has worked pretty well so far. Hands slide down Eddie’s sides as he nuzzles Steve’s neck and breaths in the scent of honey and sweat and sex. Revels in it because this is his. All his.
Maybe Tommy got his earful tonight, but he doesn’t deserve to see their love.