Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eddie is fine with his closest friend in the whole world dating his next closest friend.

Fine? No. Content, actually. Elated. Super happy for them.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

Because, yeah, now he absolutely understands why Buck felt left out before—why when he and Tommy would talk and laugh and do fun stuff together, Buck would look like a shelter puppy who didn’t get adopted along with his litter.

It’s not an… odd transition, going from ’Tommy, his friend who Buck also knows’ to ’Tommy, his friend who Buck is dating’. It just means Tommy’s time is more evenly split between them.

It doesn’t feel like he’s lost Tommy to Buck. And it doesn’t feel like he’s lost Buck to Tommy. It’s just. It’s different. 

Because before, if Buck was busy, Eddie could just call Tommy and they could hang out instead—play some basketball, watch the fight replays from last week, do a little Muay Thai practice, maybe.

But now, if Buck is busy, Eddie can’t hang out with Tommy. Because Tommy is probably the reason why Buck is busy in the first place.

It’s fine, really. All he wants for his friends is happiness, and this relationship is kinda like two birds with one stone, right? Buck is happy. Tommy is happy. Eddie is… happy?

If he’s so happy, why does he feel like the sky is falling whenever he thinks about them together? 

No, he is. He is happy. Or he will be. He’ll feel okay soon.

It’s hard to feel okay, though, when Buck is such an open book about his relationship.

He’s heard about Buck’s relationships before, sure. He heard all about Taylor when that thing was happening—Buck would share stories and rave about their hookups and keep Eddie updated on how his love life was going. Because that’s what best friends like them do, right? Just two bros engaging in some locker room talk. Nothing more.

It’s just a little difficult to listen when the relationship in question includes, well, Tommy.

Because Buck will recap a fight he and Tommy had. And then Eddie will feel trapped between two people who mean so much to him. (Even though he’ll always take Buck’s side in the end).

Because Buck will tell stories about dates he and Tommy have gone on. And then Eddie just has to sit and nod and smile and act as though he’s not feeling exactly like that shelter puppy.

Because Buck will talk about his sex life with Tommy and how amazing it is. And then Eddie has to stop himself from picturing what’s happening so he doesn’t get all weird when he goes out for lunch with Tommy the next day.

(Eddie really tries not to get uncomfortable when he helps wrap Tommy’s hands for sparring—all he can think about is how these are the same hands that Buck said choked him last night and had him ‘screaming and shaking and coming like a fucking faucet, Eds.’)

But he can be mature about this. If Buck wants to shoot the shit with him and talk about sex, sure! It doesn’t matter who it is that’s fucking Buck into the same couch they play video games on when he visits the loft. It doesn’t matter. What are bros for, y’know?

But, soon, it starts to get… trickier.

Because it’s one thing to know your best friend is having sex. And it’s another thing to know exactly when and how your best friend gets fucked.

He gets it straight from the source some days.

‘Hey. We still on for burgers later?’ Eddie texts Buck as he goes up and down the aisles on autopilot, running his mid-day errands.

It’s a standing tradition to get burgers together on the Thursdays they have off. Eddie doesn’t even really think he has to ask anymore.

‘oh yeah so about that’

‘i’ve got a date with tommy tonight 😛’

‘Okay? That’s hours away’

‘yeah ofc like we can still hang out <3’

‘i just won’t be’

‘uhhhhhh’

‘eating anything yk’

‘lol’

‘What why?’

Buck loves burgers. Why isn’t he jumping at the chance to get a burger?

‘Since when are you scared to ruin your appetite??’

‘The Buck I know eats everything all the time like a fucking vulture’

‘LOL no haha i’m not worried abt my appetite’

‘we’re not having dinner or anything. his shift doesn’t end until 9’

Three little dots flicker on and off as Eddie assumes Buck is searching for the right words.

‘it’s like a date date yk’

‘and i don’t want to screw up our plans by’

‘like’

‘eating something’

‘a couple hours’

‘beforehand’

‘😳🥴’

It takes a second or two, but it finally clicks for Eddie. Yeah, this is not an issue he’s ever had to be mindful of himself.

“Oh…” Eddie closes his eyes and shakes his head, focusing on the cereal boxes in front of him for a second before looking back at his phone. ‘Yeah no worries. It’s all cool man.’

Everything is very not ‘all cool, man.’ He’s never let himself wonder exactly what… part his best friend plays in bed. That’s, like, not a very bro-like activity. But—ugh, now he’s dangerously close to getting turned on against his will in the middle of the grocery store, just doing his darndest not to picture his best friend bottoming.

When he goes to text Buck something later that evening and sees Buck has his phone on do not disturb, something Buck almost never does unless he’s, um—Eddie doesn’t picture why that might be the case.

When he checks later and sees Buck still hasn’t taken his phone off do not disturb for—really? Two hours? Eddie certainly really doesn’t picture it. 

And when Buck finally texts him a response (answering Eddie’s question about where the tape measure in the Diaz house is) and Buck tacks on:

‘sorry!!’

‘was busy getting my back blown out 🤪’

Eddie certainly positively definitely really doesn’t picture it.

‘For 2 hours?’

‘yup. i’m a lucky guy :)’

Buck may be a lucky guy, but Eddie isn’t. Because this—this thing keeps happening. He doesn’t even always have the luxury of getting it through text.

Getting it through text is manageable. Eddie can bite his fist and have a little meltdown to himself about why it’s making him feel things before responding. Getting it in person is… well, hard in more ways than one.

They’ve been throwing back a few beers, sharing a pizza, very bro-like activities for once. A movie is playing, some period piece with poor continuity but plenty of, ahem, mature scenes. And at the most inopportune moment, the two leads are suddenly bumping into walls making out with each other, stumbling down the hallways of the manor like newborn deer, desperately trying to find a room to fuck in.

It’s hot. Eddie can’t deny that one bit. Even if he’s not as attracted to the female lead as he wishes he was. Women are still his thing, right? Right?

“God, I love that,” Buck decompresses into the couch, a dreamy look in his eyes. Not that Eddie’s looking at his best friend’s eyes when there’s a naked woman on the screen in front of him. That would just be ridiculous.

“Love what?” Eddie says without thinking, cursing himself that he’s now about to be privy to another facet of Buck’s sex life.

“The wanting. Like when you can’t touch someone enough no matter how hard you try and you can’t get their clothes off fast enough either and you can’t stop kissing and kissing, dude. It’s such a rush.”

Maybe if Eddie just hums and nods, Buck will drop it.

“Tommy’s so good at that—"

Oh, Jesus motherfucking goddamn holy fucking Christ. If he has to hear about how good Tommy is in bed one more time…

“Did you know he can pick me up? Like fully just hoist me up by my thighs and fuck me against the wall. He’s so fucking strong.”

Eddie knows. He’s done Muay Thai with the guy. He knows how strong he is.

“And sometimes when he’s waiting at my place for me to get back from a shift, I open the door and it’s like, boom, tongue down my throat. And then we, like, trip up the stairs while we throw clothes over the banister, and then I get to finger him while I suck his cock, and he’ll be whining the whole time until I finally get inside him—"

Oh, so they do it the other way too. Yeah, no, that’s really helpful to be aware of. Eddie’s going to be completely normal about that piece of information.

“Like, whimpering. Can you even picture Tommy whimpering?”

No, fun fact, he can’t picture Tommy whimpering. And he’s never done it—except—ah, fuck—he’s doing it now.

“It’s crazy what that—that wanting does to someone,” Buck smiles, taking a sip of his beer and sinking down into the couch even more, spreading his legs.

“Yeah. No, it’s crazy,” Eddie parrots uselessly.

“And you know what’s the best part?”

Eddie doesn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if he doesn’t want to know.

“He can still go again after that. He’ll stretch me out after I come and by the time he’s hard again I can just jump right on—"

“Jump?”

“I can ride like a fucking jockey, man, I’m so fucking good at it.”

Good to know. Great to know. Fabulous to know.

And, look, Buck’s a big guy with a decent alcohol tolerance, it takes more than a couple beers to get him drunk drunk. So Eddie’s not even sure if he can blame the oversharing on the alcohol. 

But when he jerks off in bed the next night thinking about his bestest friend riding his other best friend ‘like a fucking jockey,’ he has no one but himself to blame.

Except, he can’t be the only one to blame for this whole mess. And neither can Buck. Because he doesn’t even only get it from Buck anymore.

Hearing from Buck about what Tommy is like in bed is tough. But hearing from Tommy about what Buck is like in bed is some form of torture for Eddie’s gay little brain.

“Are you good, man?” Eddie turns to Tommy when he misses a clear pass during the basketball warmup they’re doing.

“Yeah, no, all good. Just tired. Evan kept me up like crazy last night.”

Of course he did. Cool.

“He’s just—he’s so eager, y’know. Sometimes I’m surprised he can still walk after.”

Eddie can tell Tommy isn’t even being hyperbolic. Cool, cool.

“I mean—sometimes I’m surprised I can still walk after. Have you seen his dick? When he’s hard he’s like… nine inches or some shit, I swear to God.”

Oh. Yes. Firehose. So Buck wasn’t lying about that after all. Cool, cool, cool.

“That guy gives head like no tomorrow, Eddie. Like, really. It’s insane. And when he just keeps asking for more and more, fuck, it gets me weak as hell, dude. It’s like, you tell him he’s a good boy just one time and he’ll immediately swallow your cock like it’s nothing.”

Eddie wishes ‘he’ll immediately swallow your cock like it’s nothing’ didn’t stick in his head so much. He’d praise Buck to the moon and back if it meant—fuck. No. Don’t.

But sometimes he doesn’t even have time to stop himself in his tracks before he’s thinking about being in bed with Buck. He doesn’t always get these big descriptions. Buck and Tommy’s sex life just… comes up, even when they’re not talking about sex. And that’s almost always worse than hearing it when he knows it’s coming.

Like, occasionally, Buck will come to work with bruises on his neck and chest and wrists and Eddie’s genuinely concerned until Buck says something like “ahhh, just a little fun and some rope burn. Tommy installed rings on his headboard! Isn’t that cool?”

Or Buck will be oddly non-vocal while they’re out at a bar with their friends and Eddie will ask if he’s okay, only for Buck to whip out his phone and write something in his notes app, flipping it around for Eddie to read ‘tommy fucked my throat rlly hard on his break today n my jaw is so sore n it hurts to talk rn :(((‘

Or Buck will show up at Eddie’s house still adjusting his belt, a little messy-haired and swollen-lipped, and Eddie will give him a questioning look before Buck shrugs and explains like it’s the most simple thing in the world, “Tommy dropped me off.” Were they making out in his driveway? Having sex in his driveway? Eddie doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t.

Still. Even things that seem innocent enough can somehow end in a discussion about Buck getting his brains fucked out;

‘hey do you still have that booklet from my leg physio about the stretches?’

‘my hamstring is killing me dude 😭😭😭’ Buck texts.

Yes, obviously Eddie still has it. Down bad motherfucker.

‘Yeah. One second. I’ll go get it.’

‘What happened?’

‘kinda almost had my ankles behind my head last night LOL’

‘evidently didn’t stretch well enough before 😔’

‘i mean ig tommy did stretch me well before’

‘just not in my legs’

Isn’t that a great visual.

Because, now, the nighttime highlight reel has somehow shifted from Buck having sex with someone else—Buck having sex abstractly—to Buck having sex with him. With Eddie. He’s so cooked.

And because God apparently hates Edmundo Diaz and wants to not just thoroughly cook him, but utterly burn him, Eddie even gets glimpses of this through the phone, too. 

“Yeah, hey, Eddie, what’s up?” Buck is panting when he picks up Eddie’s call. Panting like a dog. Like a dog who just ran a marathon.

“I was just—are you okay?” Buck usually only works out in the morning, what is he doing working out in the middle of the day?

“All good, promise,” there’s a little giggle in Buck’s tone that somehow feels condescending to Eddie. “Look, is this something important? I wanted to pick up just in case but—Tommy and I are kinda in the middle of something.” He hears some rustling on Buck’s end and then Buck’s breath hitches and—

Oh, God. While he’s on the phone? Really?

“N—no, no, all good.” Eddie goes to hang up but Tommy still gets in a distant little ‘bye Eddie!’ before the connection breaks. Fuck. Eddie’s sitting here on the couch all alone while Buck is getting railed by one of Eddie’s own closest friends. He hates this.

What else is he supposed to do but go angrily jerk off about it? He’s resigned to his horniness. He wants to fuck his best friend. 

It’s not just that though—he… fuck. He thinks he’s in love with his best friend. Because when he thinks about them having sex, it’s always in his home. In his bed. And afterwards they cuddle in his sheets. And share a shower in his bathroom. And cook dinner in his kitchen. And fall asleep holding each other while Buck asks about his day.

That’s not just not very bro-like. That’s not very horny-crush-like, either. It’s. It’s boyfriend-like. Husband-like.

Eddie is fucked. And not in the fun way that Buck gets.

After a solid few months of this, of Eddie simultaneously loving and hating hearing about Buck’s sex life, things start to… shift. He thinks.

Buck is showing up at his door at random hours more frequently, asking to have some company and stay the night.

Buck will go take a phone call at work and come back to the pool table with red-rimmed eyes, sadness just barely hidden under the sparkle of whatever façade he’s putting up.

Buck is generally free more often, too. His dates with Tommy must be lasting shorter and shorter. A dinner date but not staying over. A movie date that ends before they could have possibly gotten in a whole movie. 

Buck just isn’t as… bright. 

Ordinarily, Buck is like the sun—it doesn’t feel right for Buck to be dimmed.

So Eddie sits him down on the Diaz couch one night—no beers, no pizza, no entertainment, just them.

“Something’s going on with you and you’re gonna tell me about it.” Eddie is stern but loving, patting Buck’s thigh. Which kinda feels like putting his hand on a hot stove. Even just barely touching the thighs he’s dreamt about so often is playing with fire.

“It’s—it’s nothing—"

“Buck.”

Buck’s gaze is locked on his thumbs twiddling in his lap.

There’s a long, tense pause.

That drags on.

And on.

And on.

Until.

“Tommy and I have a lot of sex, okay,” he blurts out.

“I know, Buck,” Eddie laughs despite himself. “Trust me, Buck, I know.”

It’s an odd position to be in, comforting your best friend—who you just so happen to be thirsting after and also in love with—about the fact that he’s got an overactive sex life.

“No—it’s. Like, a lot. Like it’s the only thing we do now, basically.”

Oh. Buck sounds sad. Suddenly Buck is not his unrequited crush and Tommy is not the guy he looks to with envy. These are his best friends, he wants them to be happy above all else.

“And it’s good, don’t get me wrong. It’s amazing sex. But—I just don’t feel like his boyfriend anymore. And he doesn’t feel like mine. We don’t even really text each other if we’re not sexting. It’s like—it feels like we’re not even dating. We’ll hang out and then kiss and fuck and then… I dunno. The date just kinda… ends. And I feel so hollow after. I just—I don’t think we—I don’t think we like each other anymore.”

Fuck. That breaks Eddie’s heart. “W—why do you think that is?”

“There’s been—um… some things have come up. And it’s just easier to say we’ll talk about them later, right? So we’ll fuck to pass the time and then it just starts all over again.”

“Buck,” Eddie tries to pull Buck’s hands out of his lap. Tries to get Buck to look at him. “You deserve better. You both do.”

“I know,” Buck’s body quakes a little, tiny sobs he’s trying to hold back. “I know. He just—he used to make me so happy, Eddie. He was all I could think about.” Eddie’s heart breaks a little more. “And now—all I think about is—it’s not—I can’t do this to myself. Going back for sex again and again thinking my feelings are going to change.”

“Knowing that—admitting that? That’s big, Buck. I don’t think you would have been able to tell yourself that when I met you.” 

Buck gives a weak smile.

“Have you guys ever talked about the—the things that have come up?” Eddie rubs back and forth against Buck’s knuckles. If Buck can tell the action doesn’t feel very bro-platonic, he doesn’t say anything.

“No,” Buck shakes his head, embarrassed. “We always just end up in bed.”

“With… Look, I know exactly what it’s like. Don’t worry.”

There’s a silence as Buck wipes his eyes. Eddie wishes so badly that he could kiss the tears away instead.

“I just want to be happy, Eddie,” Buck whispers.

Eddie’s heart has gone all the way through the garbage disposal now. Fuck. He loves Buck so much. It’s so cruel what the world does to his best friend who deserves nothing but joy.

“You need to talk to him. Talk. To him. Okay?”

In another world, maybe Eddie says ‘fuck Tommy’ and takes Buck for himself. Consoles him and holds him and shows him what real happiness feels like. But in this world, Tommy is his friend. Eddie can’t even force himself to be that selfish. Fucking morals.

So, instead, he drives Buck to Tommy’s. Does the thing a good, supportive best friend like him would do. Gives Buck a pep talk on the way. Reminds him what they need to talk about. Promises he can come get Buck if things don’t go well.

As soon as Buck is at Tommy’s, Eddie knows his fist is getting some use tonight. If that fist ends up around himself or straight through the nearest drywall, he’s not sure yet. Maybe both. Probably in quick succession. Fuck.

He swears his ears are ringing as he drives back home. He wants to put on some music but every damn song reminds him of Buck. So he sits in silence, just him and his truck and the road. 

This is stupid, right? He’s going crazy—he’s jealous—about his best friend having sex with his own fucking boyfriend. It’s none of his business, really. But with the way Buck and Tommy both yap about it, it’s very regularly made Eddie’s business. It’s unfair.

Eddie tries to get his mind out of the gutter. He feels so stupidly guilty and frustrated—picturing his best friend having sex has got to be crossing a plethora of lines. Maybe it would be easier on his conscience if he only ruminated over the PG ways he desires Buck.

But as he lies down, defeated, on the same couch he’s shared with Buck hundreds of times before, he makes it even worse. 

He’s thinking about Buck’s smile and how he always searches for it as soon as he enters a room. He’s thinking about Buck’s eyes and how soft and blue and deep they always are. He’s thinking about Buck’s pretty birthmark and how much he always wants to press little kisses to it. He’s thinking about Buck’s heart and how terribly huge it is, especially to those he holds close. He’s thinking about his love for Buck. And it hurts even more than all the depraved horny thoughts—because having sex with Buck is a fantasy, but being a partner to Buck isn’t. He’s already Buck’s partner in just about every way except the ones he wants the most. It’s so hard to think about.

Being in love with Buck would be easier on him if all he did was crave sex with Buck.

But craving sex with Buck would be easier on him if he wasn’t so fucking in love with Buck.

Shit. Who on earth could meet Evan Buckley and not fall in love with him? It’s really not Eddie’s fault.

So, later that night, he does what he’s done for months. He gets into bed and closes his eyes. He takes the years and years of memory he has of Buck’s voice and forms sentences in his mind for Buck to speak to him. He synthesizes all the times he’s seen Buck near-nude to recreate Buck’s gorgeous body in his brain. He thinks about all the ways Buck is an amazing and thoughtful and deserving person to script perfect aftercare between them. The Buck in his head—the one having sex with him—it sounds and looks and feels exactly like Buck. It’s so, so, so close to being real. It’s torture.

Eddie cries as he comes, and not in the good way. Tears of guilt mixing with tears of heartbreak, sobbing Buck’s name into his pillow when he would rather be screaming it.

He checks his phone as soon as he’s righted himself. And double checks it again in an hour. And triple checks it again at three in the morning, ready to jump back in his truck in his pyjamas if Buck needs it.

But he never gets a call. Buck stays over at Tommy’s. 

He doesn’t even get a text from Buck.

He had sent Buck a bunch of messages for the first couple hours after he dropped him off:

‘How’s it going?’

‘Are you guys talking?’

‘Let me know if it goes well’

‘I love you. Remember what I told you”

‘I hope you and Tommy are having a good time’

And that’s not—it’s not a lie. Because he can tolerate his unrequited feelings, but he doesn’t think he would be able to live with Buck being unhappy. Which means on some level he does want Buck and Tommy to be together. He wants his friends to be happy. 

So, It’s not a lie. It’s just—maybe not the whole truth.

Even still, the first text he gets back in the morning is not from Buck. It’s from… Tommy?

‘I know you and Evan were supposed to be hanging out last night. It was really nice of you to drive him over here so we could have some time together. I’m really glad we’ve got a friend like you. Evan and I had a really great night. Best one in a long time. I owe you a beer.’

Good. Right? It went well, this was the best outcome. The man he loves is happy. On a completely unrelated note, why does Eddie feel like his throat is closing up?

That day, Eddie gets to work first and has to watch Tommy kiss Buck goodbye as he drops him off. He can’t rip his eyes away. It’s like roadkill.

“Hey,” is all Buck says, approaching Eddie in the vehicle bay.

“Hey,” Eddie sighs back, holding his arms out for a big hug. “It went well?”

He tries to say it like he doesn’t already know the answer. Like he didn’t just get a text saying Buck had the best night ever.

“Yeah, um—it—it was good.” Buck mumbles into Eddie’s shoulder mid-hug.

Eddie nods and pats Buck on the back. But, selfishly, he just has one question. “You guys didn’t do anything… unproductive?”

“No, no, we—uh, we did,” Buck blushes, pulling out of the embrace. “Twice last night and—uh, once this morning.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. So that means the lips he can’t take his eyes off of are the same lips that just hours ago were almost definitely around—no, he can’t let himself think about it.

“And you—you wanted it? It was good? It didn’t make you feel… I dunno… empty again?”

“Nothing about getting fucked like that could make me feel empty,” Buck laughs at himself as he heads to the locker room.

One, Jesus fucking Christ. Another image Eddie didn’t need this morning. 

Two, Eddie knows that laugh. That ‘I’m not talking about this and I’m deflecting’ laugh. Buck is hiding something.

And now they have a twenty-four-hour shift together.

To everyone else, it might seem like Buck is perfectly okay. He’s cooking lunch with Bobby. He’s playing that ridiculous firetruck racing game with Hen. He’s chatting with Chimney about Maddie. He’s the same old Buck.

But to Eddie—to the man who knows how to read Buck’s body language like a dictionary, to the man who loves Buck to his very core—he can see there is trouble in paradise. 

He can tell just from Buck’s eyes that there’s something off. When Buck’s not intimately engaged and focused on a task or game or conversation, his eyes just—they get different. His eyes glaze a little, his face drops, he becomes distracted—and not his normal ‘I have an extreme case of undiagnosed ADHD and any moment I’m not doing something with my brain it affects my whole body’ distracted—it’s clear to Eddie it’s not just random things that are on Buck’s mind. It’s like there’s one problem in particular, taking over all his thoughts.

Eddie whips out his phone where he’s sitting on the other side of the station’s loft. ‘You need to talk to me’ 

He watches as Buck feels his phone buzz and pulls it out. He watches as Buck reads the notification. He watched Buck’s eyes dart up like a reactionary dog looking for where a stray bark came from. He watches as Buck finds him and meets his gaze, making an annoyed ‘dude, what?’ expression.

Eddie serves one right back. An authoritative ‘if you know what’s good for you, you’ll respond’ type look. Buck rolls his eyes. Eddie can practically hear the sass from across the room. 

‘wdym’

‘about tommy?’

‘i already told u it went good’

Does he think Eddie is dumb? That he’s not tuned in to every aspect of his best friend’s feelings all the time?

‘You didn’t tell me the full story’

‘And don’t try to say you did’

‘Tommy told me you guys had an amazing night but I know you, Buck. I know you didn’t have a great time. What actually happened?’

Buck meets his eyes again across the loft. A glare that says ‘you’re really making me do this?’

‘what did tommy tell u?’

‘Doesn’t matter’

‘yes it does’

‘Buck.’

‘fine’

‘we didn’t talk’

‘i told him we needed to address what was happening and he said okay but then we were kissing and he said that he missed me and that he wanted to show me how much before we talked about anything serious’

‘and i should have said no but it sounded like a good idea and he was right there and i wanted it so bad’

‘so we had sex. and it was good. and after i was so tired but i still wanted to talk so i tried to stay awake but he said we could just talk in the morning’

‘so then we were cuddling and i kissed him goodnight and he just didn’t stop kissing me and he had already said we weren’t talking that night so we’

‘yknow’ 

‘and i wanted to get up early enough to fit in a real talk before work but he was already hard against me when we woke up so we just fucked again instead bc it was easier than unpacking everything right before a shift’

‘and then he dropped me off’

‘so i’m sorry i didnt tell you but it’s not like i’m proud of it. we didn’t make any progress’

‘tommy probably thought it was the perfect night bc it was all sex no talking lol and that’s kinda been his thing recently’

‘but the sex was like REALLY good so’

Fuck. Eddie knows that isn’t what he should be paying attention to. He knows the main problem here is the dysfunctional relationship. He knows his thoughts should be focused on how to help Buck get out of this loop and recover emotionally. But, for a second, all Eddie can think is I bet I could fuck you better.

But he can’t say that. No way can he say that.

‘Buck’

He’s not even sure what he can say.

‘I know the sex is good. And you deserve good sex. But you also deserve a conversation and he isn’t giving that to you’

‘ik ik it’s just. i would rather have a shitty boyfriend and good sex than no boyfriend and no sex’

Fuck. He’s breaking Eddie’s heart over here.

‘If the sex is good enough that you still want to fuck him, that’s up to you. But you need to talk about the boundaries of your relationship because you can’t keep carrying on like fuckbuddies with your boyfriend when it’s hurting you. You need to tell him’

‘i know’

‘i agree with everything you’ve said since the beginning but you don’t understand how hard it is to walk away from him’

‘You know who went through all of this? Only being able to have sex with someone who’s supposed to mean so much more? Me’

‘When Shannon came back, sex was the only thing we could do right’

‘I know it’s easier said than done. I just want you to know I have your back’

‘always eddie’

‘i always know’

Suddenly Buck is shoving his phone in his pocket and standing up. He heads for the stairs with an upset face and misty eyes—probably going to let off some steam at the station gym.

Eddie starts to get up and follow, maybe help spot him or hold the punching bag. But Buck just silently shakes his head at him, looking like he has his tail between his legs. I need to be alone.

After work, Buck is showered, changed, and out the door before Eddie. Which is odd for two reasons. 

First of all, Buck loves long showers after work. He gets the water stupidly hot and hums to himself as he washes the day away. Eddie, on the other hand, finds it almost impossible to take a long shower. Definitely due to growing up in a house with three women. Probably because of the army too. And possibly also some weird complex about being undeserving of self-care if it means ‘wasting’ water and time. The point is, Buck is never ready to leave work before Eddie. Eddie will already be fully packed and dressed by the time Buck exits the shower. He’ll sit on the bench and try not to watch Buck dress with greedy eyes as they chat about what they’re doing for the rest of the day. But today, not only is Buck out of the shower first, he’s out of the building first. 

And secondly, Eddie thought—regardless of shower length—that after the shift they’ve had, the fragmented conversations, Buck would want to touch base. Talk. Chat. About Tommy or about anything else if a distraction helps more. He thought Buck would want to come over for a beer. Or maybe invite Eddie back to chill in his apartment building’s hot tub—they haven’t done that in a while, and if it’s because Eddie turns him down whenever Buck suggests checking it out, Eddie can’t even pretend it's not a tactic to avoid a smoking, shirtless, manspreading-in-the-hot-tub version of his best friend. The only time or space Eddie would be prepared for that image is at night and alone in his own damn imagination. 

So. Eddie goes home. By himself. 

He putters around the house, cleans up the living room, puts in a load of laundry, looking for something to keep his mind occupied. When the house can’t possibly get any more tidy, he puts on a telenovela re-run and lies down on the couch. He closes his eyes but listens to the dialogue, singing the theme-tune to himself when it comes on. And it’s nice. It’s a break. He falls asleep.

It feels like he’s barely closed his eyes by the time he wakes up again, ripped from sleep by a pounding on his door. Sounding relentless and helpless.

“Coming!” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes and sleepily stumbling to the front hall. He checks his watch and—God, 10:46 pm already? Who would be here this late? 

“Dios,” Eddie says under his breath before he opens the door, swinging it open to see—

"—I broke up with Tommy.”

“You—hey, hey, c’mere, man, c’mon,” Eddie pulls Buck into a hug before he even realizes there are tears in Buck’s eyes. Buck holds him back. Tighter and tighter and tighter as he starts sobbing. “I know it’s hard and I know it hurts. I’m proud of you, Buck. I’m really proud of you,” Eddie whispers.

Buck just cries a little more. And a little more. Until he finally pulls away from Eddie. Eddie feels like a little part of him has come loose now, not being connected to Buck. He goes to ask Buck if he wants anything but Buck’s ahead of him, walking through Eddie’s house like it’s his own and retrieving a water bottle from the fridge.

Eddie wishes it could always be like this. Minus the crying.

Buck plops himself down on the couch while Eddie sits on the table, facing him, watching Buck’s throat as he drinks and then wipes his tears. 

Eddie has so many things to say, but his mouth can’t produce any of them. He wants to ask if Buck’s okay and how he feels and also tell him he’s strong and console him and hug him and kiss him and marry him but he can’t do any of that. Some things less so than others, though. 

When Buck has chugged his entire bottle, Eddie finally finds words to say the most important thing.

“What happened?”

Buck shrugs. That classic ‘what can I even say’ expression on his face. “I just told him that I…” Buck’s face drops and his voice stalls, speech stuttering and frying as he changes trajectory. “That I… That we—we had to break up.”

“No, yeah, I got that. But what happened?” Eddie speaks softly, doing his best not to banter classically when the conversation is this important.

“He bought wine.”

Okay. Wait. Pause. What?

“You… love wine,” Eddie says slowly, confused.

“I do, but. Eddie, what’s my favourite wine?”

“White,” Eddie answers like he’s just been asked 2 2.

“Yeah, but what kind?”

“Sauv Blanc.” Again—easy.

“Right! See, it’s not that hard to remember! But Tommy wanted to apologize about not talking like I wanted to the other night. So I went over for dinner today, and he brought out this bottle of wine and I just—it was Pinot Grigio. And that’s fine. Like, that’s good. Not bad at all. But. I guess—I just didn’t look as happy as he wanted. So he goes ‘What, Evan?’ and I’m like ‘No, nothing, everything’s good’ and he then says ‘Should I have gotten red? I thought you liked white wine.’ So I’m like ‘I do, I do, it’s perfect’ because the difference between white wines is a stupid thing to fight about when he’s trying to apologize to me, right? But—all I could think was ‘Eddie always has the right wine.’ And obviously I wasn’t going to say that! But he could tell I was thinking about something. So, he goes, um—he says ‘Is this about Eddie again?’”

Again? Eddie hopes there’s an explanation for that coming.

“And what am I supposed to say there? Do I lie? I can’t—I couldn’t do that. So, I explained that it’s no big deal, it’s just I’m used to Sauvignon Blanc because it’s my favourite and that’s what Eddie always gets when we have wine but Pinot Grigio is great too! And I try to move on and just eat but he starts talking about how it’s not fair to him for me to compare you guys.”

He—huh?

“And then he’s bringing up all these little things I’ve said. Like, once, I talked about how he should stop using soaps with those tiny little beads in them because they’re microplastics and they’re bad for the environment—and he complains about how I went ‘it’s okay, a lot of people don’t know, Eddie used to have them too before I told him and he switched’. Or like every single time we watch TV together I ask him to put the captions on so my brain doesn’t have to work as hard and he always rolls his eyes—so he complains about how once I said something like ‘You could make a new profile on Netflix and set that one up to always use captions by default. Eddie has one like that and we just use that one when I’m over so it’s easier.’”

Well, yeah. Of course. These are simple and easy changes he can make in his life to put Buck at ease. Why on earth wouldn’t someone do that?

“And then he’s like, yelling at me about how it’s rude to him and I shouldn’t say that stuff and I was like ‘really, we’re doing this again?’ because we’ve had this fight before. Remember when I told you ‘things’ had come up? That was—whatever. Anyway. But this time he took it further and just kept going and going—saying that I can’t compare you guys when he gives me ‘something Eddie never could’”. Eddie’s incredibly curious and anxious about what the fuck that means. But as Buck says it, he does little air quotes and this mocking Tommy-esque voice and Eddie just wants to kiss him silly more than anything.

“And, after some pushing, he finally admitted that the reason we’ve been having so much sex recently is because at least I can’t compare you guys in that. At least I can’t talk about you. At least he wins in the sex category because ‘apparently Eddie wins in everything else.’ His words, not mine. But. He’s right, y’know. You do win in everything else. You treat me better than my own boyfriend. My own boyfriend, who, for weeks and weeks has avoided talking about important stuff like how he thinks that I think he’s inferior to you, which is like the main fucking problem in our relationship. And not only that, but he’s been avoiding it with the only activity he can be superior at, like he thinks that’s going to cancel everything else out.” Buck is exasperated, face heating up until he abandons the anger and gets to the point.

“So, I just said fuck it, I’m not doing this anymore. I deserve someone who talks about our issues and at the very least doesn’t try to fuck the common sense out of me because he’s jealous.”

Eddie’s stunned. There’s so much to take in. The ‘things that have come up’ were about him all along? Fuck. Why does that make him happy? It shouldn’t make him happy. It’s fucked up. He can’t exactly say he’s the stake that’s been driving them apart—it’s Tommy’s fault for not addressing it. But. He’s at the core of the problem. And he knows he could treat Buck better. But it’s not up to him. And that’s not the point anyway. The point is that his best friend just broke up with his shitty boyfriend.

“Buck. You know that—"

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just. I’m not even that sad. I’m just bummed. Like really bummed. The honeymoon phase was so good, I wish it could have lasted. I wish he bought different fucking soap.”

Eddie chuckles, but he understands Buck can’t see the humour in what he’s saying yet. So Eddie gets on the couch beside Buck and pulls him into a big, big hug. He rubs Buck’s back with one hand and holds his head with the other. “It’s okay. He was your first real boyfriend, you’re allowed to be as bummed as you want.”

Buck just hums into Eddie’s neck and tries to breathe. Eddie can tell he’s going through the breathing exercises he taught Buck how to do whenever it rained after the lightning strike. 

They’re each a beautiful mosaic of each other and the things they’ve gone through together. It makes sense that Tommy couldn’t fit in with Buck when so much of him is already Eddie.

“Do you want to talk about it more? Or just not?” Eddie asks.

“Not,” Buck replies, sinking deeper into Eddie with each breath. Five minutes pass and Eddie has been pushed over by the weight of Buck, lying on the couch while Buck has stayed attached. Eddie realizes that they’re—well. This is cuddling. They’re cuddling. He’s lying down with his best friend’s body on top of his. His best friend’s arms wrapped around him and vice versa. 

It’s nice. It’s really nice. Selfishly, he hopes Buck never moves.

Eddie almost thinks Buck has fallen asleep until he hears a little voice, mumbled into Eddie’s chest. “I told him I loved you.”

Fuck, why does it have to hurt so much? He knows what Buck means—something along the lines of ‘you’re an amazing friend and you put so much effort in for me, my boyfriend needed to understand that’. And Eddie loves that Buck loves him, even if it’s only like that. But Eddie would do literally anything for him to mean it in the other way. 

He feels like whatever he says next will give himself away. Like no matter what words leave his mouth, Buck is going to see through him and get up off his chest and say he has to go. Eddie thinks he might die if that happens. But he can’t say nothing.

“Love you too, man,” Eddie does his best to sound normal, but it comes out a lot like that one time Buck called him ‘bro’. He hopes Buck isn’t paying close enough attention to it.

Buck goes silent again. He sniffles. He doesn’t say a word as he shifts in Eddie’s arms. 

Until, finally, way too long after the fact, he whispers, “Okay.”

Okay? Okay?

What is that supposed to mean?

“You alright?” Eddie asks nervously, shaking Buck a little and trying to stay jovial.

“Yeah, no—yeah, it’s just. It would be so easy, y’know? If you could be that for me.”

“Be what for you?”

“Be my Tommy—I wouldn’t have anyone to compare you to. There wouldn’t be any problems. And it just—it sucks.”

If Eddie thought consoling his best friend about his overactive sex life was hard, how the fuck does he console him now? He can’t just say ‘It’s okay that you aren’t attracted to me. It’s okay that us being together would solve all our problems. It’s okay that it can never be that way.’ Because it’s not okay. At least not with Eddie’s heart.

But Eddie knows what it feels like to want to want something. Buck wants to want him. But he can’t. And there’s nothing anyone can do about that. Just like there’s nothing anyone could do to make him stop loving Buck.

“It does suck. I wish I could be your Tommy, I’m sorry.”

Buck sniffles again. “Look. Don’t apologize, Eds. It’s not your fault you don’t swing that way.”

It’s—what?

“What are you talking about?” Eddie almost wants to laugh. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“It’s like—sometimes I think we were made for each other, right?” Buck shifts so he’s got his head balanced on a bent arm, looking up at Eddie as he speaks. “And I’m so happy to be with you even like this—work husband, best friend, platonic soulmate, whatever. But sometimes I think whoever crafted us just forgot to make you gay, because it would just be so easy if—"

“Buck, I’m—I’m not the problem. You’re the problem.” 

Oops. Eddie didn’t mean it like that—

“What? What the fuck, Eds?”

“No, I didn’t—I wasn’t—"

“Well, I’m sorry that me having feelings is such a problem.” Buck goes to get up but Eddie stops him, holding his face in both hands. Buck’s cheeks fit so well in his palms. Fuck.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me, Buck.”

Buck does.

“Do you—love me? Like, like that?” Eddie’s eyes dart around his face.

“I just broke up with my boyfriend because he could never be you! What do you think!?”

“I… I think I—I think that—um, I—"

“Don’t do this to me, Eddie—" he sees a tear fall from Buck’s gorgeous eyes again.

Shit. He’s fucking this all up. He just needs to talk.

“Buck, I—I love you. Like, love you love you. Like, I’m in love with you. Alright? And, yeah, I guess that means I’m gay—but I can’t even look at it like that because I don’t think about loving men or anyone else, I just know I love you. It’s always been you.”

“It’s—me?”

“You.”

“But—you never—why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were with Tommy! I can’t go for my friend’s boyfriend! You didn’t even like me like that!”

“I always liked you like that, Eddie. Four weeks into dating Tommy I realized I was fucking stupid and I wished he was you but I couldn’t do anything about it! I was with him! And you’re my best friend! It’s not like I could do what I wanted. Best friends don’t—they’re not supposed to do that.”

“Can best friends who’re in love do that?”

“Do what?”

“You tell me, Buck.”

There’s a long moment of silence where Buck looks into his eyes, like he’s searching for any hint that Eddie is actually pulling a cruel prank on him. But he never finds it.

“Yeah, I… I think best friends who’re in love can—they can kiss.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles, so hopeful.

“Yes.” But the word is barely out before their lips move and get rid of all the air between them. 

It’s not a perfect angle. But it’s a perfect kiss. Because it’s them. Eddie is half-sitting up like he’s doing crunches and Buck is leaning down yet still kind of on his side, one leg trapped between Eddie and the back of the couch. It doesn’t matter, though. Eddie’s whole body is numb except for where his lips are finally touching his best friend’s.

Buck pulls away to breathe and his eyes go wide. Eddie can tell he’s about to panic, and he can’t have that. He sits up a little more, leaning back against the armrest and pulling Buck’s other leg over his body so Buck is sitting in his lap. He runs a hand through Buck’s hair and puts another on his chest, feeling Buck’s heartbeat.

Buck smiles, still a little out of breath, and puts his hand on top of Eddie’s. He grips the back of Eddie’s hand, twines their fingers together like puzzle pieces, and goes forehead-to-forehead with him.

“Eddie…” he whispers, awed.

“What else can best friends who’re in love do, baby?”

Buck’s cheeks heat up instantly. Eddie’s heard about all the stupid pet names Buck would get Tommy to call him. But he’s never seen Buck blush so happily to anything Tommy’s ever said. He guesses he wins here, too.

“They can—" Buck cuts himself off with another kiss to Eddie’s lips like the question reminded him of what floodgates just opened. “They can tell each other really gross things.”

Eddie chuckles, “You already do that to me.”

“No, I mean—" Buck rolls his eyes and seals it with another peck on the lips. And then another. “Like gross and lovey-dovey and sweet and all that shit. Like—how I only ever feel whole when I’m with you.”

The way Buck says it—breathes it out—makes it seem like he’s been holding that one in for a while.

It is gross. Lovey-dovey and gooey and disgusting and sweet and all those things that Eddie cringes at in rom-coms. But he finds he doesn’t mind at all when it’s coming from Buck’s mouth. “Or like how I’ve spent every day for the past half-year wishing I could have you right here?” and Eddie knows he’s on the right track, but it’s just too fun to not tease Buck and act like he doesn’t.

“Yeah, like—like that,” Buck grants his wish and kisses him for the fifth? sixth? time? He’s not keeping track anymore. Not when the kisses turn his brain into a soup.

“Might as well tell you I’ve spent the last six months staring at your ass every day, too,” Eddie wants so badly to move his hand from Buck’s head to Buck’s waist and legs and ass but he’s not sure—are they doing that yet?

“You know what else best friends like us can do now?” Buck interrupts Eddie’s train of thought, perhaps because he could tell exactly where it was going. 

Eddie barely gets a sound out. Something akin to a ‘what?’ but sounding a lot more like a ‘mhfg?’ leaves his mouth at the question.

“They can touch each other,” Buck takes both of Eddie’s hands in each his own, wrestling to undo the grip Eddie has on his shirt, and guides Eddie’s hands down his body. He takes Eddie’s touch on a journey, going up under Buck’s shirt to press on his sides, letting Eddie feel the resistance of muscle and ribs. Down to his waist and the line of his hips. Down his thick, denim-clad thighs and back up. Until, finally, he gets Eddie’s hands on his ass. He presses Eddie’s hands in, making sure they stay there. Not a word is spoken the entire time, just heavy breaths.

“Buck—I…” Eddie chokes, having to close his eyes and reset.

Buck hums.

“Should we be doing this? You just—Tommy—you’re barely single again and I—"

“Eds, Eddie, baby, my love,” Buck coos, giggling, “I haven’t been single since the day I met you. You always had my heart. I was practically cheating on you by dating Tommy—"

“Don’t say that,” Eddie scoffs, feeling a twist of guilt and lust in his stomach knowing that Buck was never really Tommy’s. Not in the way Tommy wanted, at least.

“Just—Eddie. You’re it for me. This isn’t a rebound—this is me going from one relationship to two relationships and then back to the one I had all along. Except. Just with more this time. More things we couldn’t do before.”

“Like kissing.”

“And like saying gross things,” Buck nods, smiling.

“And like touching,” Eddie palms Buck’s ass again, now confident that he’s allowed.

Buck holds back a moan and looks into Eddie’s eyes. It’s an intimate thing—eye contact. Especially when you’re straddling someone. Buck’s quiet breaths fill the silence. He exhales slow, voice soft and shaky. “And like telling you I’m terrified of fucking this up.”

Eddie smiles, knowing he’s not alone in that boat. “And like promising I’ve never been so happy to be scared shitless.” He leans up for a kiss and Buck meets him in the middle, diving in with tongue and teeth. 

Eddie had let himself—on nights where he was feeling particularly weak—imagine what it would be like to kiss Buck. He knew Buck would take to kissing the way he takes to everything else in his life, head first. He knew Buck would kiss with all he’s got. And he knew Buck would be good at it. Like, really good. Like, you can’t be Buck 1.0 for years without becoming extremely skilled with your mouth.

But actually feeling it, tasting it, having Buck in his lap and hell-bent on kissing him? It’s—it’s everything.

Buck has his hands at Eddie’s neck, thumbs scratching his jaw as he cradles Eddie’s head. He kisses with such—sureness, it’s ridiculous. But at the same time, he’s gentle. Like a golden retriever who can savagely rip apart a stuffed animal but also gently hold an egg with the same mouth. Buck is passionate and hungry but so, so aware of Eddie’s pleasure. Easing him in and out of each kiss and perfectly riding the line of roughness that drives Eddie crazy, makes his mouth and cock wet at the same time.

“Buck,” Eddie moans, throwing his head back as Buck lets his kisses trail further and further from his mouth—the corner of his lips, his cheek, his ear, his jaw, his neck. He can feel the scrape of Buck’s teeth when he grazes over where his lips have left pale marks. Fuck. He can feel Buck filling out in his jeans as Buck unconsciously grinds against him. 

“Buck. Buck, hey,” Eddie brings one hand to Buck’s perfect blond curls and tilts his head up to meet his gaze. “Do you think—can best friends like us take our clothes off?”

Buck’s irises flicker from a blue of soft sky to one of hot flames. “Yeah, they—we can.”

Eddie smiles at him, nerves bubbling away from his mind and being replaced by giddy anticipation. He goes for Buck’s shirt first, using both hands to pull the hem up Buck’s body and then sitting back to watch Buck take it the rest of the way off, grabbing it by the back collar and pulling it up over his head. God, Buck’s—he’s just—he’s big. All broad shoulders and full pecs and solid abs. He’s seen Buck shirtless countless times over the years, but he’s never let himself look. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Buck is trying to get Eddie to do the same thing. With Buck’s help, he gets his hoodie off and somewhere on the floor before trying to shimmy out of his sweats with Buck still on top of him. 

Buck notices him struggling and only giggles a tiny bit before shuffling back himself, giving Eddie space to take off his pants, yes, but also giving himself room to strip his own jeans, joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Eddie pulls Buck back on top of him, ready to pick up where they left off. But as soon as he gets his hands on Buck’s body—his hot, bare skin—he has to take a moment to just touch it. Raking his hands up and down Buck’s strong chest and then lower to feel the light hair on his thighs. Jesus, he’s never been with a man before, and now he’s wondering why it wasn’t obvious earlier that this was exactly what he wanted—a masculine energy and a form carved from love that can take him down just as easily as he could if the places were swapped. Buck is just so beautiful. It’s hard to imagine that anyone on earth wouldn’t fall to their knees in awe of his beauty.

Okay. Maybe that’s taking it a little far. But it doesn’t matter to him, because it’s truly how Eddie feels. Logic be damned.

Eddie’s so distracted by the gorgeous expanse of skin—all scars and freckles and tattoos and healthy fat and lean muscle—that it takes him a ridiculously long amount of time (barely five seconds) to notice Buck’s cock is all but completely on display. 

Buck’s wearing thin, form-fitting, white boxers that leave almost nothing to the imagination, especially when Buck is leaking heavily from the tip, turning the fabric near translucent.

Eddie must look like he’s been hit in the face with a frying pan because Buck chuckles at him. A little amused laugh that tells Eddie he’s endlessly charmed by the stark admiration for this particular asset of his.

“You can touch, baby,” Buck smiles, guiding Eddie’s hand to where his eyes can’t stray from. 

Eddie lets out a noise—between a gasp and a groan and a goddamn prayer—as he gets his hand right on top of the wet splotch on Buck’s boxers. “Fuck, that’s—a lot.”

Buck laughs again—a gentle, sweet thing. “You flatter me, Eds.”

“No, I mean—well, yes, it’s a lot,” he realizes the perceived meaning in his words. “Tommy really wasn’t lying when he said—when he—fuck.”

Eddie’s sentence breaks off when Buck holds the back of his hand and grinds into his palm in slow, repetitive motions.

“I just mean—I’ve never—I can’t—I don’t know what I’m doing and it’s just—it’s a lot.”

Buck nods gently and halts his hips, “I know. I know it is. We don’t have to do anything.”

“Fuck you—we’re doing this,” Buck chuckles once more at Eddie’s words, “just—maybe not on my couch?”

Buck is quick to stand up, offering a hand out to Eddie and snickering when the hand Eddie gives him is wet. He helps Eddie up off the couch and kisses him again. It’s been way too long since they did that. Eddie has no idea how they’ll survive shifts for the next few weeks without bi-minute kissing breaks.

Buck holds him at his waist and pulls Eddie close, letting Eddie get his tongue in his mouth. Which becomes increasingly more difficult as they smile wider and wider.

“C’mon,” Eddie whispers eventually, dragging Buck to his bedroom. 

By the time they reach his bed, Buck’s underwear is lost. And, fuck, Tommy was indeed right. Nine inches seems right on the money.

Buck climbs onto the mattress and beckons Eddie to join him. And Eddie literally can’t imagine anything else he wants to do more. Except maybe get his boxers off first, levelling the playing field for them both.

Buck’s eyes are suddenly glued to Eddie’s freshly brandished cock and Eddie can’t blame him, he did the exact same thing and probably looked even stupider doing it.

“See something you like?” Eddie teases, getting up onto the bed and nearly on top of Buck.

“See something I love,” Buck answers, kissing Eddie as soon as his mouth is within reach. “God, you have no idea how much time I’ve spent the last few months thinking about not thinking about your dick.”

“Thinking about not thinking about it?”

“Thinking ‘I definitely should not be thinking about my best friend’s dick while my boyfriend is inside me’. And then thinking about how much I shouldn’t be thinking about it. And then thinking about the fact I’m thinking too much about not thinking about your dick.”

“That’s a lot of thinking,” Eddie hums, pecking Buck on the lips. “And what do you think now?”

“I think I need it in my mouth.”

“Because that’s a thing best friends like us can do?”

“It’s a thing best friends like us should do. Like right now. Unless you want me to die.”

Eddie chuckles and Buck follows suit.

“I’m serious, Eds. Death by lack of dick—it’s a real thing.”

“I’m sure it is,” Eddie ridicules him but fully plans on indulging him anyway.

It’s been—Eddie would say… a while since he’s gotten head. It really wasn’t Marisol’s thing. Which is—y’know, that’s fine, all good. Eddie never really found himself wishing that wasn’t the case because, well, he never really wished for anything in their sex life. It was just kinda… there. It was good, don’t get him wrong, but not something that took over his every thought.

Not the way Buck has.

And if Tommy’s recounts are trustworthy—which they have been so far—Eddie knows he’s in for a treat.

Buck is already lovingly greedy as he flips Eddie onto his back and moves down his body, leaving messy, loud, licking kisses as he goes. When he reaches the space between Eddie’s legs, he gets Eddie’s thighs over his shoulders, confidently moving the two of them around so they fit together perfectly. It turns Eddie on way more than it should. Because he knows a lot of this experience can be credited to Tommy, and that’s not a sexy thought. But at the same time, Buck—gorgeous, giving, gracious Evan Buckley—knows what he’s doing in bed with a man and it ignites a competency kink Eddie didn’t know he had. 

He would have thought that being completely inexperienced while his partner isn’t would be scary—thought he would feel out of control and embarrassed; different from everything else in his life being about execution and skill. 

However—and this is maybe definitely part of him breaking down the walls in his mind that kept him in a box for over thirty years—he finds he doesn’t feel uneasy at all. He’s completely at ease, in fact. It’s nice to be paid attention to while he hands the controls off to someone else for a little bit. It’s so hot that Buck knows what he’s doing. Especially when Eddie knows that soon enough he’ll know Buck’s body like the back of his hand and will be able to return the favour.

Buck leaves little kisses all over Eddie’s upper-inner thighs and hips and pelvis, nosing at Eddie’s full cock and breathing deeply. Burying himself in Eddie’s scent. He hums as he does it, so content.

Buck licks his palm and then gets it around Eddie’s cock, stroking him with a grip all slow and firm. God, that feels nice. Eddie’s never, ever had such a large hand around him, not even his own. Just like with almost every size category, Buck has him beat in hands as well. 

Eddie shudders as Buck follows his grip with his tongue. Leaving a sloppy wake of saliva in his path only for it to be swept up by the motion of his hand on the downstroke. Yeah. Buck knows what he’s doing.

“How many—how many times have you done this? Fuck.” Eddie almost thinks maybe he doesn’t want to know—doesn’t want to get any extra glimpses into Buck and Tommy’s former sex life. But he’s just so curious.

“Lost count,” Buck hums, “I’d guess, maybe…” Eddie loves hearing Buck’s voice but he really wishes telepathy was a thing so that Buck didn’t have to take his tongue away to speak. “Well, Tommy and I were together for, what—six, seven months? Probably around two hundred days—something like thirty weeks—" great, now Buck has briefly reacquainted himself with his human calculator brain and is off on a math tangent. “Saw him maybe two or three times a week—but some dates we wouldn’t get a chance to do anything while a bunch of others were almost all… that. So, I dunno, let’s say it averages out to—"

“Buck,” Eddie groans, laughing a little. Not really at Buck but just—the absurdity of the situation. His cock is less than two inches from Buck’s mouth after months and months of pining and Buck is currently doing mental math.

"—Probably around seventy? Eighty times?” Buck is smirking knowingly now, too. He knows exactly how to torture Eddie.

“You know what they say, eighty-first time’s the charm,” Eddie says dryly—though with the biggest smile—as he gets a hand in Buck’s hair, ready to guide Buck’s mouth back to his cock if needed.

But Buck is a good boy. Always so good for Eddie. Especially now that he’s his.

And so he giggles back, lowering his head until his lips brush Eddie’s frenulum and catch on his tip as he speaks. “Feel like I’ve been waiting forever to do this.”

The ‘so do it!’ Eddie has ready to go gets drowned out by his sudden moan; one that’s equal parts relief and surprise. Buck has finally, finally, wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, sucking and pulling back so just the first couple inches slip in and out and in and out of his mouth with ease. Eddie tightens his grip in Buck’s hair, unaware of what any part of his body is doing except for his cock, throbbing in Buck’s wet mouth. 

“Dios, me vas a matar,” Eddie sighs, gravelly and slurred. You’re going to kill me. And there’s no way he’d prefer to die more.

Buck smirks—smirks—around his cock, continuing to stroke Eddie at the base. He looks up at Eddie through light eyelashes as he holds his hand still and sinks down further, until his lips meet the side of his fingers. Eddie gazes at him, chin to his chest, entranced, completely uncaring of how unflattering this angle of his face must be to Buck. And completely unaware of the fact that Buck thinks he’s beautiful anyway.

“Buck. Shit, Buck!” 

Buck continues to move up and down as he slowly removes his hand. He holds onto both of Eddie’s thighs on either side of his neck, letting his fingernails bite into the heavy legs weighing him down. He pulls back for a breath and a wink and then goes allll the way down until he’s got his nose buried in the dark curls at the base of Eddie’s cock again. He delights in the way Eddie moans—chokes, really. 

Eddie knew Buck has had a great deal of practice but—goddamn, it’s unexpected though not at all unaccepted, he’s never been this deep in someone’s throat before. 

He feels like he can’t take full breaths anymore, like somehow Buck is sucking the air straight out of his lungs through his cock. He supposes if anyone should be struggling to breathe, it should be Buck. But Buck looks happy as a clam down there. Like he could just do this forever.

When Eddie’s adjusted to the new sensation, Buck’s throat tight and warm and occasionally spasming in a way he’s never experienced, Buck gives it his all. He raises his head all the way back up, strings and bubbles of spit trailing behind his lips as he does so. Eddie should have known he’d be perfectly messy at this. It’s Buck’s signature style for most things.

Buck presses his tongue hard on the bottom of Eddie’s cock as he bobs back down, hollowing his cheeks, swallowing up the mess he’s made only to create more and more each time he lets Eddie slip against his palette and through his throat barrier. Eddie’s swearing like a sailor above him, eventually getting comfortable enough to hold Buck’s head and meet him with jerky, needy thrusts, shoving his cockhead straight to where he knows Buck loves it—if his whimpering is anything to go off of.

Eddie had no idea this much technique could go into a blowjob. Shannon and even Ana were—they weren’t bad by any means, not at all—but this is—Buck is—he’s something else entirely. He keeps perfect, pulsating suction on Eddie’s cock as he tilts his head up at the tip, tonguing at Eddie’s frenulum and then nuzzling into Eddie’s groin at the bottom of each dip down. Again and again, again, again, again.

He’s whining, too. Pleading, slutty sounds as he tastes and swallows and savours the way Eddie leaks. Eddie can feel Buck’s throat vibrating as the noises try to escape, only making the sensation that much more angelic.

Eddie still resents Tommy for dropping the ball on his boyfriend duties and trapping Buck in a cycle of—admittedly hot—sex for weeks. Of course he does. But when Buck has a mouth like that and uses it so enthusiastically, he can see how Tommy would do anything to have it on him any chance he got.

Shit. Why is he thinking about Tommy right now? He should be thinking about—oh, God.

No. Not God. Buck. His name is Buck.

All secondary and tertiary thoughts are exiled from his brain as Buck lets his throat create any sounds he was clearly holding back before. He lets himself be loud, even exaggerating a little bit for the filthy entertainment value. His throat clicks with each penetration, gagging and glucking as he goes. 

It sounds straight out of a type of porn Eddie definitely certainly hadn’t ever watched after Buck headed home after movie nights. 

Eddie pulls Buck up off his cock sharply, tugging roughly at his hair and basking in the way Buck moans because of it. His mouth is messy—used. Lips red and covered in spit and pre. Eddie’s so in awe of him.

“Fuck. You can’t—I can’t come like this,” Eddie pants.

“Oh, I think you can,” Buck teases, stroking the sides of Eddie’s thighs with his big, warm hands.

“No, I—duh, I could come like this. Probably would have if you were on there one more second, fuck,” Buck smiles at him. “But, I—I wanna come…” Eddie breaks his sentence off with a wind of unsurity.

“You wanna come… how…?” Buck asks slowly, lovingly, patiently—and still a little teasingly—as he presses little kisses into the hand Eddie has cupping his face. 

“Depends.”

“On?”

Eddie bites his lip for a second before it turns into a dirty smile. “Do you think best friends like us could—" he yanks Buck up the bed for a kiss, tasting himself amidst the saliva coating Buck’s sinful mouth. “Can best friends like us fuck?”

Buck snickers and dives back in for a punishing kiss.

“Yes,” he moans in the few milliseconds he takes to breathe in between kisses. “Yes, yeah,” more kissing, “yeah, we can—" and again, “best friends like us can—" and again, “can fuck, absolutely.”

“Mmm, good,” Eddie agrees, letting his hands drift down to Buck’s waist and hips and ass. Buck shivers despite the fact the word ‘good’ wasn’t necessarily directed at him, just at the notion that sex is about to happen. But Eddie learned a long time ago—partially against his own will, thanks Tommy—that saying ‘good’ to Buck in bed would make his ears perk up like a puppy. 

“Gonna be good for me?” Eddie whispers into Buck’s lips, smiling when Buck chases after every almost-kiss he teases him with. 

“Gonna be so good for you,” Buck doesn’t take no for an answer this time when he dives in for a kiss, gaining entry to Eddie’s mouth with his tongue and licking behind his teeth before kissing the laugh from Eddie’s lips.

Eddie kisses and kisses and kisses him. He doesn’t think he’s enjoyed kissing this much since he was sixteen and kissing was all he knew how to do with a girl. But with Buck, it’s just so fun. He can’t get enough of Buck’s taste from those plush lips that always match the rosy pink of his birthmark. 

Buck grinds his cock against him, slotting into the crease of Eddie’s hip and rolling his own over and over. Eddie thinks he might be going insane—sex isn’t supposed to feel this good. And they’re not even having sex yet.

“You—” Eddie starts, prompting Buck to kiss the side of his face instead, letting Eddie’s lips free to talk. “You—when you’re with Tommy, you—you the one who—”

“Yeah—fuck, I love taking it, baby—feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to have you inside me.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his own spit (or maybe it’s Buck’s spit. There’s a lot of spit in his mouth). He feels like such a bad friend knowing he finds joy in the fact that Buck’s first boyfriend—the guy who was supposed to make him feel like the happiest man on earth—never satisfied this lifelong need. Buck still craved Eddie. Always craved Eddie.

“But, we can—if you want to do it the other way, we can—” 

Buck is very sweet. Buck is the sweetest, steadiest, sexiest man Eddie could imagine being in bed with. It’s just like Buck to make sure Eddie knows all his options. But he’s actually out of his mind if he thinks Eddie bottoming is within the realm of possibility right now. That event needs, like, its own weekend.

“No way in hell that thing’s fitting inside me tonight, babe. Think I’d actually break in half.”

Buck buries his face in Eddie’s neck and chuckles, definitely blushing profusely. “This ‘thing’ would not break you,” he picks up the movement of his hips again, humping against Eddie’s own cock. “You are absolutely free to fuck me—like, please fuck me. But just know that you’re gonna fall in love with this cock sooner or later. It’s inevitable.” Buck is a cocky motherfucker, but he deserves to be.

“I’m in love with you, Buck. Pretty sure that includes your cock anyway,” Eddie scoffs. “And even without that,” he reaches down to stroke Buck’s cock for the first time, brain going all fuzzy with how it barely fits in his hand, “I’m already in love with it, baby—so fucking pretty.”

Buck’s cheeks heat up, blushing even more. “You think it’s pretty, huh?”

“I think everything about you is pretty. Giant cock included.”

Eddie knows they’ve been doing a ridiculous amount of kissing and will almost definitely have chapped lips tomorrow, but he still can’t help kissing the smile off Buck’s mouth at that.

He gets lost in it, only snapping out of the trance Buck’s lips put him into when Buck asks in a whisper, “You’ve got lube?”

“Yeah—fuck—bedside drawer,” Eddie lets go of Buck’s cock and messily gestures to the side of the bed.

“You wanna watch me or do it for me, Eds?” Buck kneels up to reach over and retrieve the bottle, giving Eddie a moment to centre himself again.

Buck is talking about fingering, right? He’s pretty sure that’s the next step.

“I don’t—I’ve never—I wouldn’t know what I’m doing.”

Buck tries to hold back the pouty smile he has. “You’ve never fingered yourself before?”

“Of course I have,” it’s Eddie’s turn to blush now.

“And you’ve fingered a chick, right?”

Eddie closes his eyes and chuckles and nods, wordlessly saying ‘more times than I wanna think about right now, yes.’

“Then you’re all set,” Buck tosses the lube at Eddie’s chest. “Stretch me out, baby.”

Eddie swallows down a groan as he uncaps the lube. He knows it’s a cheesy, porn-esque line. But when it comes from Buck’s mouth it does wonders for him.

He starts to get his fingers lubed up, eyes repeatedly slipping closed in an attempt to ground himself as Buck gets impatient and grinds their cocks together again. He’s so—what was it Tommy said? Eager. 

When his forefingers are sufficiently slicked, Eddie pauses again, unsure of what to do next. Well. He knows what to do next. He just isn’t sure the best way to go about it.

And because Buck’s Buck—the man of Eddie’s dreams who can read his body language just as well as Eddie can read Buck’s—he cards a hand through Eddie’s hair and kneels up. It’s nearly a whisper when he says, “It’s okay, Eds. Just hold your hand down there for me and I’ll ride your fingers, that sound good?”

Eddie nods dumbly, positioning his hand for Buck. Buck holds his wrist still as he sinks down onto Eddie’s middle finger, going slowly—probably more for Eddie’s benefit than his own. 

Eddie gasps as it happens. Warm, wet, and tight. 

Buck smiles down at him, only barely holding back gasps of his own at how it feels to finally have any part of Eddie inside him like this. “Feels good, huh?” Buck teases.

Eddie nods as Buck’s rim reaches his last knuckle. And as he does it, Eddie crooks his finger toward himself just a little. Buck shivers. Eddie does it again and again, delighting in the way Buck’s breath stutters each time. 

“Feels good, huh?” Eddie teases back, the bastard that he is. He’s not sure if he’s even close to Buck’s prostate, but Buck seems to really enjoy having his walls pushed on regardless. 

Buck moans in a vague affirmative and rises back up on his knees. He circles his hips a couple times, moving Eddie’s fingers with the action, before dropping back down. He grinds into each curl of Eddie’s finger, enhancing the stimulation each time. He’s so pretty up there. King of the world.

“Gimme another,” Buck exhales, kneeling up again. “Please,” he adds. And Eddie knows Buck isn’t saying it because he thinks Eddie wouldn’t give him another finger if he wasn’t polite. Eddie knows Buck’s doing it because being extra good means he has more chances to be told he’s good.

“Yeah, baby. Take another,” Eddie lets his index finger join his middle where it’s rubbing against Buck’s slick rim. “You’re so good for me.”

Buck groans out of praise and pleasure and sinks down again in one smooth drop. And then he sits there, circling his hips on Eddie’s hand and driving him crazy. “So pretty,” Eddie whispers, getting addicted to the way Buck’s cheeks blush at every morsel of every compliment.

Eddie curls his fingers again, rubbing Buck in just the right way. “Fuck, there, Eddie. There.”

Eddie smiles to himself, pleased and proud. “Yeah?” he whispers, gentle circles over Buck’s prostate as Buck grinds into the pressure.

Buck just hums—more of a whine, really—and nods furiously. Eddie is so charmed by him. It’s hard to believe Buck is all his now.

“Want another?” Eddie asks, ready to slide his ring finger inside as soon as Buck says yes.

“Yeah, just—” Buck shivers, “just hold your hand still for me.” Eddie does exactly as he’s told, watching in awe as Buck rides three of his fingers like a—well, kinda exactly like a ‘fucking jockey’. “Sorry, I just—you were gonna make me fucking—if I didn’t—if you didn’t stop.”

The way Buck apologizes pulls at Eddie’s heartstrings. He never wants Buck to apologize for anything at all ever again in the history of forever. Especially when it concerns the topic of coming.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Eddie smiles.

“Not before I can feel your cock all the way in my stomach, no.”

“Oh, yeah? Does it always feel like that?” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s fishing for. Another godforsaken peek into Buck’s sex life with Tommy? No, not really. Probably more of an insight about how much Buck is exaggerating for his benefit. It can’t really feel like that, can it?

“Sometimes,” Buck pants. “I mean—obviously I know it’s not up in my stomach, but Taylor had a strap that made it feel that way. And, baby, I fucking miss that feeling.”

“Didn’t get it with Tommy?”

“God, no,” Buck scoffs.

Fuck. Why does that make Eddie so happy?

“But you think you’ll get it with me?”

“I know I’ll get it with you.”

Fuck. Why does that make Eddie so happy? He’s never been one to look too much into dick size and what it says about a person’s value in or out of bed. Dick size is a stupid and arbitrary way to measure anything, right? But, despite this. Some evil flame burns inside him knowing that he still wins out over Tommy in every way—the size of his cock and ability to make Buck’s stomach ripple included.

Eddie tries not to think about the implications of that. If he’s big enough that Buck will feel it in his stomach—where on earth will he feel Buck’s cock when that day comes? His lungs? His heart? His throat?

All three, he hopes. He wants to feel all-consumed by Evan Buckley. Always.

He relaxes back into the bed and watches on as Buck’s pretty pecs bounce with each time he bottoms out on the fingers inside him. Eddie wants his mouth all over those gorgeous tits. 

Getting impatient and perhaps a bit eager to see Buck whimper for him again, Eddie meets Buck’s next grind. He shoves his fingers up just a little as Buck rocks down, making him throw his head back and whine.

“Can we—are you—?” Eddie pants.

“Yeah, yes. Fuck,” Buck circles his hips down once more before kneeling up far enough to dismount Eddie’s hand—leaving his fingers a mess.

As Buck rolls over onto the mattress, lying next to Eddie now, Eddie strokes himself with his wet hand, transferring sloppy, squelched lube onto his cock. Buck can’t rip his eyes away.

“Get on top of me, Eds, shit,” Buck begs, helping to pull Eddie over his body. Buck reaches for the lube bottle still next to them on the bed, slicking up Eddie’s cock even more. 

Eddie trusts him to know what he’s doing. He’s the one who’s had sex with a man countless times, after all. Eddie’s mouth still waters, though, at how wet Buck is getting his cock. There’s gotta be more than enough lube now. Buck just likes things messy. 

It’s no surprise—if the way he kisses and gives head is any clue.

Eddie leans on his knees and forearms before moving his dry hand down to grab Buck’s thigh, helping him shift so Buck’s legs are wrapped around his waist. The deja vu is going crazy, putting someone in this position again. But, at the same time, it feels completely foreign. Even just holding Buck’s thick-as-all-hell thigh reminds him that this is not something he’s ever done with anyone—any man—before. 

And if he has it his way, he’ll never do it with anyone but Buck ever again.

“Hold on,” Buck whispers, removing his leg from Eddie's grasp. It takes a second, but he soon gets his ankle up and over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Jesus, Buck,” Eddie chuckles, using one hand to stroke soothingly up and down Buck’s thigh where it’s near parallel to his chest. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Buck blushes again. “‘S’better this way. Don’t worry about my—”

“Oh, I’m not worrying, baby.” 

Buck looks a little confused.

“What? You think yapping to me about all the athletic ways you have sex with your boyfriend gave me the impression you’re not cut out for this?”

“Fuck,” Buck tries his best not to smirk. “I really wasn’t trying to—I guess I just—talking about sex with you was the closest I could get to having sex with you so I—”

“Not anymore, Buck,” Eddie leans down for a kiss, letting Buck hum a satisfied moan between them. “You wanna put it in?”

Buck nods and bites his lip, all giddy in the best ways. He reaches one hand down to guide Eddie into him. Eddie feels the initial resistance at his hole and for a second he thinks the whole plan is foiled—everything has been going too smoothly so far, something has to go wrong at some point, right? But that’s not the case, because as soon as Eddie is notched at his hole, Buck uses the heel that’s not glued to Eddie’s neck to push Eddie’s hips from behind. 

Buck meets his eyes as it happens, mouths both dropped open. Kinda like the looks they gave each other that night in the ambulance all those years ago. Emotional eyes and lax mouths as they realize holy fuck this is scary and we’re doing it, we did it.

Eddie’s the first to break the near silence, the first one to utter any intelligible words. “Dios,” he whispers, glancing down for a moment. 

Buck nods again, desperate to return the sentiment. “I know.”

“Fuck,” Eddie looks back up as Buck removes his hand, trusting that Eddie’s cock doesn’t need any more guidance. It lets Eddie push in further and further, pulling out when he’s halfway in just to thrust an inch deeper than he did before. “Oh, fuck.”

“Eddie,” Buck kisses his cheek as Eddie looks down again. “Gimme it all.”

And who is Eddie to deny Buck anything? He focuses back on Buck’s pretty eyes as he lets himself bottom out, watching as he sees the moment Buck can tell it’s all the way in.

He looks so fucking gorgeous Eddie can’t not kiss him. He surges down and hears Buck moan—from the shift in angle or the additional stretch in his leg or both, Eddie’s not sure. He drowns the noise out with a kiss anyway.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Buck smiles dopily when they part. “Can’t believe it’s…”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, pecking Buck on the lips again. He starts to thrust in earnest now, slowly fucking Buck for real. 

It’s an entirely euphoric and surreal sensation. If he had a hand free he might pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming. Every other time this has happened, he’s woken up to disappointment and sticky sheets and no Buck. But the way it feels is so different this time around. Like now the sensation is in crystal clear colour while retrospect tells him everything before was grainy and black and white. It’s like the difference between looking at a picture of food and actually eating it. And he supposes that’s not incredibly far from the truth, Buck is now all his to put his mouth on instead of just an unrequited desire.

For how long they’ve been craving sex together, it hasn’t been entirely frantic so far. More worried about each other’s comfort and not rushing into things. But once it’s clear all Buck wants is to be pounded, Eddie’s more than on board.

He holds Buck’s wrists to the pillow on either side of his head, savouring the way Buck whines. “You’re so fucking pretty, Buck. So fucking good for me.”

Buck only whines more at that. Nodding, wordlessly saying ‘yes, yes I am, I promise I am, I promise I’m good, and I can be even better, keep going’.

“Good boy,” Eddie smiles, rewarding Buck with more kisses as he ramps up the speed of his thrusts but lengthens the pause in between them, rubbing his cockhead as deep into Buck as it’ll go before pulling out and making Buck whimper.

“You’re so—fuck—oh, fuck—fuck, Eddie, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You too,” Eddie gives in, knowing exactly what he means. He speeds up now, can’t keep himself from fucking Buck fast and hard and consistently when Buck sounds like that. Sounds like all of Eddie’s dreams melted together.

“You—fuck—” Eddie has to catch his breath. “You like it rough, don’t you?” He lets one of Buck’s wrists go, instead placing his hand at the base of Buck’s neck. Not applying much pressure, just—holding him down, feeling his pulse, making sure Buck knows he very well could be choked if he wanted.

“Love it,” Buck huffs, shifting his hips up into each grind of Eddie’s. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Eddie counters, catching Buck’s lips when he leans up for a kiss. “Your leg good?” If it weren’t for how close they are, Eddie feels like he might have to yell, projecting noise over the sound of skin slapping together. But they’re so close. Breathing in each other’s love. 

“Yeah, yeah, get my—get my other one up too.”

Eddie moans at just the thought of wearing both Buck’s ankles as earrings. He keeps one hand in place at Buck’s throat as his other helps get Buck’s foot up on his shoulder. 

“Shit,” Eddie gasps, rolling his hips in faster and faster. He’s not going to last long, not like this, not with Buck. But he has a feeling Buck isn’t far behind.

“Fuck, that’s—fuck me, Eddie. Yeah—don’t stop—"

“Never stopping, baby.”

“How’re you so—you fuck me so good!” Buck’s eyes roll back and Eddie couldn’t be more proud of himself.

“You think I spent half a year listening to how you like getting fucked and didn’t take notes?”

“You—”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know all about how eager for cock you are. And how you come so much harder when you’re told you’re good. And how you like to be thrown around and marked and choked. And how you’ve got a huge fucking cock but you love being used anyway. And how you whine so pretty when all the attention is on you and what a princess you are.”

“Eddie—”

“Mi princesita hermoso,” the contrasting gendered suffixes feel weird and new and fucking addicting on Eddie’s tongue. He leans up, getting his hands on the top of Buck’s thighs as he fucks him, looking down at him in all his debauched glory.

Buck shivers like Eddie has never seen before. He bets Tommy’s never seen it either.

“Eddie,” Buck tries again. 

“Y—yeah?” he smiles nervously down at Buck. “I fuck you good, don’t I?”

“Yes!” Buck moans, clenching around Eddie as his muscles spasm getting closer and closer to release. “I can’t believe you’re—you’re so—”

“So what, baby? So deep?” Eddie teases, moving one hand to push down on Buck’s trembling stomach as his hips snap up at the very end of each thrust, effectively punching Buck in his sigmoid.

Buck nods and whimpers. “Yes, yes, yes, Eds—so—so fucking deep,” he slaps his hand on top of Eddie’s, holding his palm down. “Feel it so fucking deep and I—tell me I’m yours.”

“All mine, Buck,” Eddie whispers, abandoning any technique in his thrusts and just fucking Buck the way he’s dreamed about for months. “Not anyone else’s. Not Tommy’s. Just mine, Evan.”

“Fuck—say it again—”

“You’re all mine, Buck, only—”

“No! The—my—say my name, Eddie.”

“Oh, Evan, baby. You just hated it, didn’t you? Tommy calling you by your real name all this time when I’m the only one allowed to do it? Huh, Evan?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.” Eddie’s almost sure there are tears in his pretty blue eyes.

Buck’s cock bobs to smack the back of their hands over his stomach with each thrust, leaking and leaking and leaking all over them. Eddie’s so tempted to wrap his other hand around it—force Buck to make them all messy.

But he knows for a fact—don’t ask Eddie why he knows, ask Tommy why he told him—that Buck has never come untouched in bed. And suddenly it’s the only thing on Eddie’s mind.

He thinks he can figure it out. Heaps of praise and dirty talk and hickeys seems to be the way to go—which he’s sure even Tommy tried at some point. But it was never as good coming from him, was it?

Eddie feels evil finding joy in that. 

But finding joy in making the love of his life come his brains out? He could never feel bad about it. And so he does just that.

“Can’t believe you’re in my bed like this, Evan,” Eddie finds each time he opens his mouth it’s harder and harder to talk—easier and easier to just pant and whine with exhaustion and pleasure. “You take me so well it’s crazy.” The sweat on Buck’s bare neck looks like a sweet invitation. Eddie leans down to lick it up and then press hard kisses to the damp skin. Buck’s legs are stretched even more like this, knees practically touching the mattress on either side of him. But just like with everything else, Buck seems to love the way Eddie forces new sensations onto him, the punishing stretch in his legs is no different.

“And I thought sex with Tommy was good, but—fucking Christ, Eds,” Buck whines. And Eddie can’t help but smile against Buck’s clavicle as he fucks him.

Eddie sucks near the exact same spot he’s had his thumb countless times when he’s patted Buck on the shoulder. He thinks about how good it’ll feel to press on once again, after it’s blossomed a perfect shade of crimson. “It was torture, baby, hearing all about how well Tommy fucks you when I knew I could do it better. Drove me fucking mad, Evan. It was so hard to keep my hands off you, but all I could do was put them on myself instead.” He pauses his thrusts, partially to stop himself from coming right then and there but mostly to make sure Buck pays attention to what he says, “I can’t tell you how many times you would be barely out the door, and I would be in here, thinking about my best friend fucking his boyfriend. And then I’d hear all about it from Tommy the next day. ‘Evan did this’, ‘Evan’s so good at that’, ‘Evan loves my cock so much’. Fuck, it made me fucking insane.”

“So, fuck me, Eds. Fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme,” Buck whines, seething, unconsciously squeezing Eddie’s neck on either side with his ankles. “Want you to come inside me.”

“Is that something best friends can do now, Evan? Come inside each other? Is that something best friends are supposed to do?” Eddie goes to a new spot on Buck’s throat and ever so slowly begins moving again.

“It’s what—it’s what best friends like us are supposed to do, yeah,” Buck smiles. Eddie can’t see it, not with where his head is buried, but he can hear it in his voice.

“Then why weren’t we doing it all along, Evan?” Eddie teases.

“Didn’t know we could,” Buck pants.

Eddie chuckles and starts fucking Buck’s—what’s gotta be sore by now—hole faster. “But you wanted to?”

“Every time he would—” Buck’s not even daring to say his name anymore. Fuck. Like it feels sour in his tongue now that he’s had the pleasure of moaning Eddie’s. “Every time he came inside me I just—I would pretend it was you.”

“Fuck, Evan.” Eddie’s hips buckle, now shoving himself deep inside over and over again, desperately trying not to lose his rhythm this time. “And here I was, fucking my fist every night, pretending I had you in my bed.”

“We’re stu—uupid,” Buck moans when Eddie hits the perfect spot. He’s being way too loud. And Eddie couldn’t care less about what his neighbours think. Not when Buck’s sounds are finally all for him.

“Not stupid,” he smiles, determined to make Buck wail like that again and again, “just slow.”

And wail like that again Buck does. Especially when Eddie holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to play with Buck’s nipples. It’s ludicrous the amount of times he’s seen Buck uncomfortable as his shirt chafes against his raw chest after a night with To—his ex. It’s not hard to tell—even if he didn’t constantly hear it from the two of them—that Buck loves having his tits played with.

Eddie’s thrusts don’t falter as he thumbs back and forth against Buck’s left nipple. He flicks it and presses circles around it and pinches it, pulling until Buck’s chest has to arch just to withstand it. “Eddie,” Buck gasps, “yes, Eddie! Yes! Yes!”

“Gonna be my good boy—”

“Yes!”

"—Gonna come for me?”

“Yes!”

Eddie kisses Buck hard and fast as he fucks Buck through their first orgasm together. Buck sounds like he’s floating and falling all at once, clenching around Eddie and pressing down on his own stomach as his legs shake on Eddie’s shoulders. He screams Eddie’s name as he comes. And Eddie can tell he’s been holding that one back for a long time—wishing for months that this was the name he could yell when he finishes in bed.

Eddie smirks, almost giggles to himself. He’s just so inexplicably happy. He just made Evan Buckley come untouched. Fuck.

Eddie’s own orgasm takes him by surprise, whispering “shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, Evan, fuck, I’m—you’re—fuck!” as he lets go, wishing he had something more eloquent to say their first time together, but still painting Buck’s stomach from the inside nonetheless. Now it’s Buck’s turn to have a fucked out, happy giggle to himself—looking more pleased than Eddie’s ever seen him.

He collapses down onto Buck, lying in the mess on Buck’s tummy and chest. Buck slowly gets his ankles down and starfishes out below him, stretching his sore legs and wrapping his arms around Eddie’s sweaty back.

“That was so good,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s ear, making Eddie silently nod against his neck. He presses a kiss or two there, kissing against hickeys that will most likely take a week to fade. 

“You were so good, mi corazon,” Eddie whispers back, loving the way his body is jostled as Buck lets out a blushing laugh. 

They lie there together. Pancake Buck and Weighted Blanket Eddie. 

Eddie takes some time to reflect—this day began with him stressing about Buck running off to his boyfriend and has ended with Buck in his bed. Not only in bed with Eddie, but in love with Eddie. Eddie still can’t quite wrap his head around that. It’s not his fault that his brain isn’t working—he just fucked the man he’s been ridiculously sexually frustrated about for months, if not years. His brain should be allowed a day off just for that.

“Buck—”

Buck pouts and groans.

Eddie huffs. “Evan—”

Buck hums happily this time—a princess indeed.

“Evan. As much as I would love to stay just like this until work in like—” Eddie glances at the clock on his bedside table and does some quick calculations, “thirty-two hours, we need to get up.”

Buck goes back to pouting. “No,” he grumbles.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Eddie chuckles, propping his head up on his hand to look at Buck. He’s really glowing. A genuine post-sex sparkle Eddie’s never seen on anyone before.

“I think part of me has waited years to have your dick inside me, Eds. It’s unfair.”

“Unfair that I’ve got my dick inside you?” Eddie teases, knowing what Buck means but wanting to make him say it instead.

“Unfair that you have to pull out now. Wish you never, ever had to.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but is completely utterly entirely smitten. “That’s ridiculous, baby.”

“It’s true.”

Buck’s lips look so kissable Eddie can’t help himself. The freckles on his cheek look just as kissable, too. So does every little splotch of his birthmark.

“You would hate it,” Eddie says.

“Nuh, uh,” a very convincing argument from Buck.

“Yes, you would. Because if I never pulled out then I wouldn’t be able to do this—” Eddie rises up a little, slipping out of Buck and flipping them around. He pulls Buck up and makes him straddle his lap, immediately reminding Eddie of how they were on the couch just an hour ago. Eddie pulls Buck in for a kiss with one hand and lets his other brush gentle strokes against Buck’s slick, puffy hole, sliding two fingers right in when he starts to feel Buck dripping.

Buck preens at the treatment—manhandling and kissing and plugging his ass. It’s funny. He can remember the exact moment he mentioned to Eddie how comforting it is for him to not have to worry about making a puddle on the sheets after sex—explaining to Eddie at the mall one day about how ‘Tommy bought me a set of plugs from that store over there once; not for sex, really, but just ‘cause it feels good to stay full after. ‘N’ also not get my ass any more sticky, y’know?’. It’s still clicking for Buck just how much of a menace he was to Eddie all these months. And at least Buck could unload his pent-up sexual frustration through actual sex with an actual man. Eddie didn’t have that pleasure. He owes Eddie a lot. Probably owes him a ring while he’s at it, too.

In the meantime, though, he lets Eddie kiss and kiss and kiss him, uncaring of what happened in the past or what might happen in the future. Just. Content as he gets to smooch his best friend over and over.

After Eddie leads Buck to the shower—who insists on washing Eddie’s hair to get him back for the way Eddie took care of him in bed—Eddie wraps them both in fluffy towels and drags Buck back to his room. He watches on as Buck volunteers to strip and change the sheets, his heart burning when Buck navigates his house like it’s his own again, moving expertly from bedroom to laundry room to linen closet and back to the bed.

When he’s finished, he lies down and spreads his arms out, welcoming Eddie to the clean bed with a million-watt smile.

“Can’t believe we did that,” Buck hums after a solid ten minutes of silent, happy cuddling. “Best sex of my life.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“‘Course, Eds. Is it that hard to believe?”

“Guess not. But, y’know. It’s easy when I’ve basically collected the handbook on how to fuck Buck,” Eddie teases.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Well, it’s not my fault! What kind of best friends tell each other detailed depictions of what they like in bed, huh?”

“Sexually frustrated best friends who love each other. Best friends like us.”

“So, terrorizing me, breaking up with your boyfriend for me, kissing me, having hot sex with me, showering with me, cuddling with me—this is still all just stuff best friends like us do?” Eddie smirks as he burrows into Buck’s big, strong, soft chest.

“Nah,” Buck exhales, holding Eddie tighter. “Pretty sure that’s all stuff boyfriends like us do.”

Eddie thinks his heart really does skip a beat at that. “Yeah, me too,” he mumbles into Buck’s lips as he kisses him goodnight. 

There’s lots of talking to still be done—lots more sex too, probably—but that can wait until the morning. Eddie lets himself enjoy sleepy cuddles with his man. His man! “I love you” are the last words he speaks before he falls asleep. And the last words he hears back.

The next day is filled with them. A lazy morning spent inside Eddie’s bedroom (and inside Buck). A slow afternoon of brunch and cuddles and important conversations. A cozy evening with frantic sex and unfrantic love-making. 

Eddie knows they have to venture into the ‘real world’ again tomorrow. Fires aren’t going to put themselves out. But, for now, it’s just him and Buck. All the guilt and jealousy and frustration and anger and heartbreak he’s bottled up for months evaporates straight out. He feels better knowing that Buck felt almost equally insane during all those cursed interactions.

Holy fuck, did I just tell Eddie I’m gonna bottom for our mutual friend tonight before spending hours with him? I’m so fucking screwed if I see his lips wrapped around a milkshake straw at lunch, Buck thought before going out for burgers with Eddie.

Shit, imagine if I could rip off Eddie’s clothes right now. I’d ride him until the fucking couch breaks if I was allowed. God, I shouldn’t be thinking about this, should I? Buck pondered as their shitty movie played in the background.

You told my best friend I love giving head? Buck thought when Tommy recapped his day with Eddie. Well, duh, I would fucking love to give Eddie head. Bet he has the most gorgeous cock. Bet it would feel ever better sucking off my soulmate. Christ, why can’t my boyfriend be my soulmate instead?

I could have just told Eddie I pulled a muscle working out. Why did I have to tell him about getting my brains fucked out. What is wrong with me? Buck pleaded after Eddie had sent over all of his physio material like the angel he is.

Fuck. Eddie’s voice sounds so nice even on the phone. Maybe if I close my eyes and think really hard, I can make Tommy’s voice sound like Eddie’s while he fucks me. Crap, that’s really fucked up. I’m really fucked up Buck thought after he hung up on Eddie mid-doggystyle. 

It took heaps of patience and lots of nights spent with horrid post-nut clarity for the both of them, but they finally got here. 

Best friends like them are bound to end up exactly where they are. Eventually.

“Fucking hell, Buckley. Are we gonna have to put a muzzle on Tommy?” Chimney jokes when he catches Buck changing in the locker room before their next shift.

Eddie presses his lips together, trying desperately not to giggle or smile or make a damn sound or do anything to give himself away. There were a lot of times in the past where he would have loved Tommy to be muzzled. But. Well, it’s not needed anymore. Thank God.

“Oh, Tommy and I—we, uh—we broke up,” Buck coughs, specifically not smirking and not looking at his new boyfriend as he says it.

“Shit, man. That sucks. Those just—” Chimney gestures to the rosary of hickeys Buck has, “they look fresh, y’know?”

“Yeah, I—I know.” Buck finally breaks and lets his eyes flick over to Eddie, just for a second. Long enough for Chimney to notice, though.

Chimney’s eyes narrow, turning away from Buck. “Hey, Eddie…” he beckons Eddie over a little before lunging and pulling his shirt collar down. Only to be met with a matching collage of pinks and purples. 

Eddie jumps back, trying to cover himself again. “What the fuck, Chim?” 

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it!” Chimney is all but jumping up and down and pumping his fists. “Henrieeettaaaaa,” he sings, dashing out of the locker room and running up the stairs. “The turkeys have landed! I repeat! The turkeys have landed!”

A week later—after some very satisfying morning sex, if Eddie does say so himself—Tommy responds to a message Eddie had sent him the day after the breakup.

‘Heard about the breakup. It’s tough, I know you guys had a lot of fun together. Buck also told me a little about what was going on and I just want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to get in between you guys. Buck and I are just like that I guess. I hope we’re still cool. We should probably talk at some point. Take your time.’ he had texted. He’d never had to send someone a ‘sorry for your partner dumping you’-text after getting with said partner. He had felt guilty as he sent it. Dirty. Evil. He would have understood if Tommy hated him and never wanted to speak to him again, especially after he learns about how post-breakup Buck ran straight from his place and into Eddie’s bed. Fucking your friend’s ex is already generally a no-no. Fucking your friend’s ex within half an hour of the breakup? That’s like. Generally a big no-no.

‘Hey man, still gonna need some time, but we’re cool. It’s really hard for me to say this because I loved Evan, but it wasn’t meant to be and it’s not your fault, making the relationship work took way more effort than it should have. I know how easy it is between you two. I would say treat him well but I know you will anyway. He’s all yours, Eddie. Probably always was too’

‘Let’s hit the court sometime. Just after I’ve gotten over the fact you’re fucking my boyfriend’

‘Kidding!!!! 😂😂😂’

‘Love you man’

Eddie smiles at his screen. ‘Love you too’ he texts back. 

He sets his phone on the bedside table and glances over to where Buck is standing by the mirror, completely naked, looking over his shoulder and using an LAFD shirt to wipe his ass down. 

God. He loves him.

“Princesa, c’mere,’ Eddie laughs. Buck drops the shirt and walks over. And Eddie feels like he’s died and somehow ended up in heaven because Evan Buckley is backlit by the sunrise, naked in his bedroom, and climbing on top of him for a kiss. 

He gets lost in Buck’s lips. Letting Buck’s tongue press gently against the seam of his mouth before accepting it with enthusiasm. He sucks on Buck’s lips and licks his tongue, smiling so wide it’s barely a kiss by the end. He gets his hands on either side of Buck’s face and pulls him back with a filthy ‘smack’. Buck was right, whoever crafted them definitely had the other in mind.

“What?” Buck hums. “You okay?”

“I’m just really happy I have a best friend like you, Evan.”

“Me too, Eds,” he sighs happily, “I’m really happy we have best friends like us.”