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Summer days bring summer heat; brings hangouts outside; brings swimming in Steve Harrington’s pool. They’ve been out of it for roughly ten minutes, laying on the loungers. Fingers pruned. Hair sopping and just beginning to dry. Eddie’s mop of hair looks, well, like a wet mop. And Steve’s sticks to the sides of his head and to his forehead as if it’s a rugby helmet. Not that Eddie wouldn’t known what that was, but Steve is a can of worms—sport themed worms.
Steve’s talking about a failed date for the third time this week. The girl’s name is Naomi or Michelle or Erin or…fuck if Eddie knows, he’s sort of drifting in the conversation, tired from pumping his arms in the water. “She complained that my dick was too big for her!” Steve exclaims, which immediately catches Eddie’s attention again. “It’s not that big and also—who the hell complains about big dick? Don’t girls want the whole thing, they want to be full like that? Hell, I should know what they like, but it seems like girls’ tastes just keep expanding.”
“How long is it?” Bursts from Eddie.
He closes a palm around his mouth and keeps his face pointed forward. Eyes on the horizon line. Sun dipping lower, lower, lower as Steve looks at him. Eddie knows that Steve’s looking at him, his sight burning two holes into Eddie’s ribs.
“How long?” Steve asks incredulously. Eddie glances back, then. Met with two, wide, unbelieving eyes. “Did you seriously just ask me how long my dick is?”
Eddie shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. “I mean…how would I know if that girl is right? If your dick is long, then it’s big. But if it isn’t, then the girl is wrong.”
Steve grunts, thinking. “How would we know how long my dick is?” He asks slowly.
We, Eddie thinks, WE?
“By measuring, obviously. Tape measure, dude. Never done it?” Steve shakes his head at that. “Oh…Well, that shows my cards, don’t it? You can do it flaccid, but you gotta do it hard. It’s more accurate that way.”
“How’s it more accurate when I’m rock hard, Eddie? You sound insane.”
“Don’t you know? Your dick expands when it gets hard, meaning you get an extra couple inches. And if you’re fucking somebody—I mean a girl—then you’re gonna be hard! You don’t satisfy if you’re all floppy and sad.”
Steve’s staring at him again. That same wide-eyed expression. Then, he starts to move off his lounger. “There’s a tape measure in my dad’s tool kit in the garage. He doesn’t fucking need it, doesn’t fix shit. I got some porn mags, wanna help me?”
Eddie squawks, heaving himself from his seat, nearly falling flat on the cement. He scowls up at Steve when he starts giggling, but melts into his own giggle fit. Steve’s standing above him, shirtless, glowing from the low sunshine behind him. And it’s going to make it exceptionally hard to help Steve out—it being the massive, raging, surging crush Eddie has.
But he follows after, to the garage, up the stairs and to Steve’s room. He settles on the edge of Steve’s bed as the guy stands about six feet away. And, without any forewarning, Steve practically rips his swim trunks off. He’s still a little damp on his thighs and lower belly, glistening with it. And Eddie’s eyes shamelessly drop to Steve’s dick. It’s actually pretty big flaccid—meaning that the girl, Eddie doesn’t care to remember, was right—nestled in a fucking bush of dark brown, oddly enough straight, pubic hair. It’s pale along the actual length, a gentle, rose colored pink on the tip. But he is pretty big already. Eddie assumes somewhere between 6-6.5, meaning Steve’ll probably be a 7.5, maybe an 8. And—shit, yeah—that’s pretty fucking big.
Not as big as Eddie’s, but it’s big.
“Okay, so…you take the tape measure,” Steve says, delegating. He’s holding an August, 1982 Playboy in his hand. It’s all wrinkled and weathering. Eddie briefly wonders how many pages are stuck together. Or, maybe, if this magazine does anything for him because it’s—all things considered—not actually that damaged. It’s used in the sense that it’s been folded on the spine and stuffed inside a bedside drawer, but otherwise, it’s pretty pristine. “Would it be weird if I jerked in here, like in front of you? Or should I do that in the bathroom? But…what if I don’t stop myself in time and—“
“Just come stand between my legs, Stevie. You shouldn’t have to go too long for this—“
“Can you take your swim shorts off, too?”
“Uhh…sure,” Eddie agrees, already wriggling out of them. As soon as they’re scrunched by his knees, they fall to the floor, and he kicks them away. Silence screams through the room. But Steve makes no sudden movements to come closer.
Steve takes a deep, shaky breath. And that’s when Eddie notices that his eyes aren’t where they should be, but instead zeroed in on Eddie’s crotch. Where his dick, 7 inches when flaccid, is thick in a shorter, curlier bush. Pale, red tip, starting to chub already. “Holy shit,” Steve breathes. And Eddie then notices, too, when Steve’s own dick gives an interested little twitch.
His dick that twitches while Steve still stares at him.
“Come on, Stevie,” Eddie sing-songs, teasing. “You’re gonna shrivel and prune over there if you wait any longer.”
Quickly, a bit clumsily, Steve rushes over. He hands the tape measure to Eddie, stands between his spread legs, and narrowly misses Eddie’s nose as he hastily brings the magazine close to his face. His red-cheeked, flushed with steady arousal face.
“Put your hand on your dick, sweetheart,” Eddie teases again, this time testing the waters. Watches as Steve follows the command wordlessly. Obediently. Eyes glazing, surprisingly. “Go slowly. Don’t wanna blow your load.”
And again, Steve obeys. His right hand is almost white knuckled with the tight grip he has. He lets the dampness from outside work as his lubrication. Sliding his tight fist up and down his shaft in slow, long strokes. Thumb teasing the head. Within just a few seconds, (no, seriously. Eddie looked at his watch. It only took him fifteen seconds to get fully erect. Holy shit.), Steve is ready to be measured.
“Alright, move your hand. Let me in there,” Eddie murmurs low, voice scratchy in the back of his throat. He’s turned on probably as much as Steve is. He wonders, though, if Steve even had any help from the picture he was looking at in the magazine. Or…and Eddie gets a quick glance when he sits up, if he had any help with the advertisement. A condom ad. With a picture of a condom. A wrapped condom. No breasts. No girls. Nothing.
Eddie files that away for later. Later being a few minutes from now.
He gently presses the metal edge of the tape measure into Steve’s pubic hair. Nestling it close to the base of Steve’s shaft. Listening as he whimpers unabashedly in his throat. Steve reaches a shaking hand, his now free right hand, to smother his mouth. Eddie smirks to himself as he gets closer, nose to tip with the fantasy of his fantasies. He drags the tape slowly, painfully slow. Lets the dull, but just sharp enough edge run against the sensitive skin of Steve’s dick. Scraping like a freshly manicured fingernail, relishes in the airy moan that elicits. And then finally comes to a stop at the tip. At the red rosy tip that’s leaking pre-come. Fuck, Eddie internally moans.
“Mm,” Eddie assess, voice pinched, “7.25. Down to the decimal. Guess I was wrong.”
“How—How big are you?” Steve pants, squirming where he stands. His thighs gently brush the inside of Eddie’s. Thick and coarse leg hair just burning Eddie.
“Flaccid, I’m 7. Hard, I’m maybe an 8 or an 8.1, depends on the swell.”
In front of him, Steve visibly quakes from shoulders to feet. Toes curling into the soft carpet below. “Fuck,” he moans wantonly, “Eddie.” He seems to hesitate, then. Stumbling forward, but stumbling backward like he can’t decide where to go. Like he needs something, but doesn’t want to give it to himself.
Eddie scoots an inch back on the mattress. Spreads his legs wider. Makes sure his dick is on display, curving towards his belly. He languidly, confidently gives himself one stroke and bites back the sound that encroaches him. Then, he pats the tops of his thighs. “Come here, baby,” he purrs, inviting, “come here, I know you wanna.”
And as if he’s been starving himself, a food oasis in front of him, Steve scrambles. His knees hit the side of his bed, stumbling him forward. Face nearly planting on Eddie’s crotch. But he pulls himself up, crawls over Eddie’s outstretched legs. Nestles his thighs on either side of Eddie’s hips, and sits himself mid-thigh, dick alongside Eddie’s. He puts his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.
“Touch me, Eds, please,” Steve quietly pleads. He attempts to roll his hips, but Eddie holds him down with his left hand.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he coos, wrapping his hand around both of them. And at Steve’s heady moan, he works them over. They probably won’t last long, Eddie can gauge that, but he savors this.
Each stroke purposeful, slow, careful. He trails his left hand away from Steve’s hip, tickling each one of his ribs, up to his hair. Gently, he grabs a good handful of locks, and pulls Steve down to his face.
Steve goes pliantly, moaning through his open mouth, chest to chest with Eddie, hands squeezing for purchase where they lay, and panting hot and heavy into Eddie’s mouth. His eyes are shiny with unshed tears. With fervor, Eddie kisses him. In response, though, Steve devours. Again like he’s starving as if Eddie is the oasis he’s been searching for. He squirms in the grasp, pulling himself up just a few centimeters. Plunging his nose into Eddie’s left cheek, slobbering all over their lips, tongue tracing along teeth once Eddie welcomes him inside. The heat in which he kisses in almost makes Eddie falter—almost.
He matches the pace, matches the need, matches the roughness. Squeezing every other stroke, grazing his thumbnail along Steve’s hole, teasing each other’s pubic hair with the slow curl of his fingers. Steve pants against him, hard enough it sounds like he’s not getting enough breath, gasping and mewling with it, but he continues to kiss as if it’ll save his life.
Eddie removes his hand from Steve’s hair, fingers trailing down his spine, grabbing a handful of his ass. Gently, he curls his fingers, leaving indents of his fingernails in the thickest part of Steve’s cheek. His thumb teasing the edge of Steve’s crack.
Steve pulls himself a bit, arms shaking from holding his weight on Eddie’s shoulders. Gasping, “Ed—Eddie. M’close, close.”
Shushing him, Eddie strokes faster still. “Yeah?” He checks softly. “You gonna show me how good you feel, baby? C’mon Stevie, c’mon, sweetheart.”
Against Eddie’s lips, Steve comes undone. He dips to kiss, but just barely gets a peck in before he’s yelping something stilted into the heat of Eddie’s mouth. All slobber, no breath, tears coming slow down his cheeks. He writhes, trembles, quakes against Eddie’s body. Pushing back into the hand on his ass, rutting. And then he shoots hot, white ropes all the way up to just below Eddie’s pecs. Though he may not be as big as Eddie, he does come more. Longer. Eddie bucks up into him, unloading onto the soft, downy hairs of Steve’s belly, come dripping down, cooling into the pool above Eddie’s belly button.
Steve collapses against him, wheezing with effort. His eyes are closed. Skin hot and flushed. He’s glistening with a thin layer of sweat. But he’s humming in contentment as Eddie flips him over, gently so gentle, against his mattress. As Eddie wipes him down with a tissue from the stereotypical box on Steve’s bedside. As he presses warm, sweet, delicate kisses to Steve’s hairline, down his nose, once on his lips, sucking something soft where his collarbone would be covered by the neck of his usual shirts.
Against his bed, Steve appears sleepy, Eddie notices. Blinking slowly, trying to keep his eyes following Eddie’s figure. Where he lays next to Steve. And when he finally gets himself and Steve under the covers, Steve scoots closer, nestling himself to Eddie’s right side.
“You’re so big,” Steve murmurs, “really wanted you inside.” He pouts a little and Eddie wants to nip him for it, but he just squeezes Steve in tighter, drops a peck to the top of his sweaty hair.
“Next time,” Eddie promises.
“Really?” Steve excitedly asks, perking up like a puppy. “There’ll be a next time?”
Eddie finds himself chuckling; endeared. “Yeah, baby. I don’t like one-time deals.”
“Oh thank fucking god,” Steve breathes. “Thought I’d have to pine after you forever.”
“Pine? As in pining?”
Steve scoffs. “Yes, you dork. You really think I was that turned on by a picture?”
“A condom ad, mind you,” Eddie says in turn. Steve swats his chest playfully. He can’t help the giggle that spills out of him. “Only knew you were into my dick, baby. Hopefully it and my heart ain’t too big for you.”
“Mm…I’ve been in love with you for months now,” Steve confesses quietly, “I was just scared you didn’t feel the same way, so I kept sleeping around. But…then you almost ate shit outside and you’re all sweet on me, so.” He shrugs where his limited movement allows him. “I love you for you, Eds. Just don’t let this be a one time thing.”
“Never. You’re with me for the long haul, sweetheart. Good luck.”