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“So, you don’t really do this much, do you?” Steve said, shifting in the hard plastic chair underneath him, raising a brow across the table.
Eddie Munson–the Eddie Munson–who was finally, after years of dancing around it, sitting at the table across from him, flicked his eyes up to the cameras and then back down to Steve, and then let out a nervous laugh.
“No, Steve, I do not,” he agreed, stretching back himself, his leather jacket pulling over his shoulders, cropped black t-shirt riding up just a bit.
Steve smirked and reached for his spoon, dipping it into his ice cream and popping it in his mouth as he contemplated this. “Notorious for not doing interviews, actually.”
It was Eddie’s turn to smirk as he licked his own cone, leaning forward on the table, resting on his elbows to get closer to Steve. “Ah, but this isn’t an interview, is it? It’s a date.”
One of the camera men on the other side of the room shifted on his feet and Steve knew it was to stop himself from laughing. It was the premise of his show, afterall. Who’s For Dessert? had started as a stupid joke with his best friend, Robin, who loved hearing stories from all of the terrible failed first dates and joked that maybe he should just film them and put them on YouTube for everyone to laugh at.
And then, Dustin, the kid he babysat for extra money and considered a little brother, took that a little too seriously, and before Steve knew it a shaky cam version of date #1 was up online.
And it took off.
The show had evolved since the early days. Now he flew all over America (and sometimes further afield), mostly interviewing (“dating”) celebrities at their local dessert haunts. He had two and a half million subscribers on YouTube and sometimes cracked four million views on a video, with the right guest.
They were hoping for five on this one.
But the thing was: even though the premise was that Steve was taking his guests on a date, most celebrities didn’t quite treat it that way. Obviously not. It was a youtube interview show, they were there to promote the brand. Sometimes he got a few good flirtatious comments, but no one actually thought they were dating Steve, when they came on the show. And that was fine. It wasn’t like he figured any of these “dates” were ever going to turn into anything, after all. It was his job now, one that employed half a dozen people and brought him joy almost every day.
Even if he was still single, and it was getting harder and harder to have a good anonymous hook up on the side when people on the street were actually recognizing him, it was worth it.
Eddie Munson had been the “get” of the century, according to Robin, who was now his executive producer. Lead singer and frontman of one of the biggest metal/rock bands of the last ten years, Corroded Coffin, Eddie was well known for being incredibly private. He’d gone through it in the media when they first broke on the scene, Steve remembered it well. A few trashed hotel rooms, two different drunken public incidents (one involving a smashed paparazzi camera that Steve related to very well), and then a very public and significantly fraught outing. Eddie had disappeared after it all and, other than popping out a new album almost like clockwork every other year, and touring in the years between, he never spoke to anyone.
Hell, he hadn’t even shown up at the last Grammys. A tiny blonde in a perky ponytail–a ballet dancer, Steve thought–had accepted the award on Eddie’s behalf.
The point was: Eddie Munson never did interviews. And as far as Steve knew, he also never went on dates. Reaching out to him at all had been an insane choice, but Dustin was obsessed with Corroded Coffin. The number of times that Steve had heard “if we can’t use your fame to meet THE Eddie Munson, what is even the point” which, frankly, he thought was kind of idiotic. But hey, he was just the pretty face.
Either way, whatever Dustin had said to Eddie’s “people” (the blonde ex-ballerina was, apparently, the band’s manager, as odd as that was) worked. Two months after the reach out, they’d gotten the call.
Eddie was in.
And now they were here. Sitting in a tiny ice cream parlor in Indiana, of all places. And the problem was, the actual real problem, was that Eddie Munson was fucking hot .
Steve hadn’t really gotten it, his whole thing. The eyeliner and tattoos and rings and sometimes lipstick. He’d watched enough grainy concert footage on Dustin’s phone, and flipped through Eddie’s extremely minimal instagram, but he hadn’t seen the appeal. But the man in front of him wasn’t decked out in makeup. His hair wasn’t teased up, it just fell softly around his face in loose curls, a choppy 80s shag that somehow totally suited him. He was wearing a black t-shirt he’d cut off above the bellybutton with a band name Steve had never heard of on the front, and his leather jacket was almost sinful with the way it clung to his arms, and the edges of a few tattoos creeped up the collar, up Eddie’s neck, and down the tops of his hands as well. The few inches of skin that Steve could see were also covered with tattoos, but his bellybutton and the line of dark hair darting beneath his pants were on full display.
And his face. His eyes were big and brown, almost doe-like, and his lips were full and plush. God, his lips. Steve couldn’t remember the last man he’d kissed–he was bisexual, but it was so much easier to find women to hook up with, these days–and Eddie’s sharp jaw and soft features made him want to reach across the table and take.
And here Eddie was. Sitting across from him, two scoops of double chocolate fudge in a waffle cone in his hand, calling it a date.
Steve snapped back into himself in time to scoop up another spoonful of strawberry sour cream, and licked it off the spoon, taking perhaps a little longer than he normally would with his tongue.
Eddie’s eyes tracked the movement, and Steve felt a jolt of interest spark low in his belly.
“Absolutely. Could be quite a good one, I think. You’re not one for uh, stuff like this, typically. In fact, the rumour I’ve heard is that you’re a vampire. Only leave the house under the cover of darkness, and all that.”
Eddie tipped his head back and laughed, and the joy radiating out of him was infectious. When he dropped his head back down he surveyed Steve closely, and huh. There was definitely something in his eyes that Steve wasn’t used to seeing, in this setting.
“I’m not a vampire,” Eddie clarified, with a snort, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “But, I do bite,” he added, and did an over-exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows. It was a joke, absolutely.
And also: Steve was pretty sure it was the truth.
“Good answer,” Steve told him, and couldn’t help the way his eyes dropped down to Eddie’s lips, just for a second.
Eddie smiled and it wasn’t for the cameras at all. It was just for Steve. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird? What are you hoping for, with all this?” He gestured around them, and reached above his head to tap the mic.
Steve forced himself to shrug, to play it cool. That’s who he was supposed to be on the show. No one wanted a host who so clearly wanted to jump down his date’s pants, but he was sure he wasn’t hiding it well. Frankly, he was treading new water here.
“Well, what do most people hope for on a first date, Eddie?”
“Surely you don’t think you’re going to, like, meet the one on your Youtube show?”
Steve quirked a brow and picked up his ice cream bowl to bring it closer to his mouth. Licked his lips. Tracked Eddie’s eyes as they followed the movement.
“And why not?”
Eddie laughed again, still nervous, but it was shedding as he got comfortable, sitting here across from Steve. “Well,” he gestured again. “Doesn’t exactly make for a good first date, does it? Being watched by, what, a couple million people? It kind of… kind of kills the buzz, a little bit.”
“This doesn’t get you going?” Steve teased.
Eddie bit his lip.
Oh, well, yep. He was totally fucked.
“I’m just saying. You know, maybe if you’d called me up on your own, we could have had a real first date. And now, all we’ve got is this.”
Steve choked for just a second, caught himself, remembered they were filming and thanked god that Max Mayfield was such a wiz in the editing room. “You’re telling me if I’d called you up and asked you on a first date, no cameras, you would have said yes?”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. A challenge. “Would you have called me up, Steve?”
Steve thought about it. For a long moment. And decided he couldn’t answer that question, because it was one he was going to be thinking about for the rest of his life. “I think… I think the whole point of this show is me meeting people that I’m… that I’m interested in. Getting to know them. Showing them a bit of who I am. Seeing a bit of who they are. Yeah, it’s work, it’s my job, but… People meet other people at work all the time, don’t they?”
“Do they?” Eddie shot back.
Steve snorted. “Well, they do if they ever leave their mansions, Munson. The rest of us, like, go to parties, see each other at award shows…”
“Ah, so you are just looking to catch someone’s eye from across the room then. You just needed a way into the room.”
“Hang on,” Steve backed up, meeting Eddie’s eyes, suddenly aware he’d been staring far too much at his lips. “I think I built my own room. And you’re sitting in it, so clearly it worked at least somewhat. This is who I am. Clearly it intrigued you enough to say yes, didn’t it?”
Eddie paused, licked his ice cream. Sinful. He had a fucking tongue piercing, a perfect silver barbel right in the middle of his perfect pink tongue. “Or maybe I knew if I turned you down you wouldn’t call again. Maybe I didn’t want to miss my only chance.”
Steve shivered. This was really not where he expected this afternoon to take him.
“Tongue piercing, huh?” he managed to get out, letting the flirtation slide deep into his tone, knowing the audience would eat it up.
Eddie winked. Clearly his whole ‘uncomfortable on camera’ shtick was really just that. “Like what you see?” he stuck his tongue out, let it loll from his mouth for a moment, and Steve couldn’t help but look. Couldn’t help but wonder. “Do you usually kiss on the first date?” he asked.
Steve felt his eyes widen at the question, the languid way Eddie had asked it, feigning disinterest. “I suppose that depends on the date, doesn’t it?”
A noise from the other side of the room pulled him back into himself. Not the time, you slut, he thought to himself. He needed to change the subject before this got very uncomfortable for everyone in the room.
“So if you were taking me on a real date, where would we go? Some grunge show in the middle of nowhere?”
Eddie snorted. “First of all, Corroded Coffin is metal, not grunge.” He tapped a finger on the table, as if trying to emphasize his point, and then pointed it at Steve. “Second of all, Indiana isn’t exactly crawling with metal bands, as sad as that is. And thirdly, I think…” he trailed off, tipped his head to the side, assessing, tapping the finger on his lips.
“I’d take you to a Dodgers game. Buy you a hot dog and a fucking fifteen dollar beer. Get myself a popcorn so we could toss it down when the ump made a bad call. I’d wear a bigger jacket,” he paused to laugh, but he looked a little wistful, “so that when you ended up freezing I could give it to you. And then,” he leaned in again and Steve, drawn by some magnetic force, leaned in too. “Then I’d drive us out to Mulholland Drive, and-” he paused, glancing at the cameras very quickly and then back to Steve’s eyes. “And nothing else in my plan is safe for your channel.”
Steve swallowed hard and forced himself not to reach down and adjust his levis. The camera usually didn’t catch under the table, so he had to hope all evidence of his attraction was hidden.
“Didn’t take you for a baseball guy,” he managed to say, and he knew his voice sounded lower, hoarse.
“I’m not,” Eddie said, leaning back with a laugh, loud enough to break some of the tension that was building. “But you are.”
Steve felt like he’d been hit by a truck. It was true, he absolutely was a baseball fan. Anyone who opened his instagram would see him in the Dodgers cap, laughing with Robin and Nancy in the stands at Dodgers Stadium.
Eddie had done his research.
Steve wasn’t quite used to feeling so seen, so spread open and investigated. So worth the effort.
Maybe dating random celebrities full time had lowered his bar just a little too much.
“I’m just a very considerate lover,” Eddie added, with another laugh, but it wasn’t a joke. Steve could see the way Eddie’s eyes were focused on him.
“Jesus,” he breathed out, and then tried to pull himself the fuck together. “But that’s only if we’d gone on a real first date first, right?” he tried, setting his mostly-forgotten ice cream down on the table.
Eddie leaned over and dropped his cone into Steve’s bowl, wiping his fingers off on his black jeans. And then he reached across the table and swiped his finger right next to Steve’s lips. Pulled back, stuck it in his mouth and sucked.
“You’ve got my number,” he said. And winked.
Steve bit down on his bottom lip hard to stop himself from leaping over the table and into Eddie’s lap. He glanced over at Dustin, who was watching with eyes bigger than dinner plates. Robin tapped her watch. Almost done. He needed to wrap this up.
“Y’know, this has been one of the most interesting dates I’ve done on this show, I think,” he admitted to Eddie with a laugh.
“Why’s that? Not used to your subjects taking an interest in who you are as a person?”
Steve thought about it, nodded. “Honestly, yeah. You haven’t told me anything about yourself. Or your projects, what you have coming up.”
Eddie waved that away as if it didn’t matter. “Ask me anything you want to know. Not about the projects.”
He had time for probably one more question. He knew that. He needed to make it a good one. Had to get something that would be good content, a good tagline. Something no one had ever asked Eddie Munson before, something that would–
“What are you doing after this?”
It came out before he could stop it. He could feel the blush cresting his cheeks, but it was too late to take it back.
Eddie sighed, looking a little dejected. “I thought I said not about the projects.”
Steve realized the mistake, and shook his head. “Are you going to make me spell it out?” he asked, and leaned across the table, hoping his face conveyed his interest. “A very reliable source told me you might bite, if I asked nicely enough.”
Both of Eddie’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise and he leaned in as well, interest clear on his face too. “You think you could handle me, Stevie?”
“Tell me you’re free right now and we can find out.”
Eddie shivered, Steve watched it happen, and nodded. “Got my van out back. No Mulholland Drive in Indiana, but I know some spots.”
“Lead the way,” Steve told him, and reached his hand across the table.
Eddie snagged it and tugged Steve to standing.
“Cut!” Dustin shouted, and Steve didn’t move, didn’t step away. “Okaaaay, we are gonna need to do some serious editing on that horn-dogging at the end but I think you guys nailed it. Steve, why don’t we-”
“Little busy, Dustin,” Steve called back, yanking his mic pack out of the back of his pants, unthreading the wires and dropping it on the table. Eddie was doing the same.
“Wait…” Dustin trailed off, and Steve could feel the way Dustin was watching, assessing the situation. They were standing in the middle of the ice cream shop, inches apart, looking at each other. The tension was so thick in the air that Steve thought he might explode. He knew he was hard, knew his levis were too tight to hide it. He guessed, if he looked down, that Eddie would be too.
Eddie slipped his hand into Steve’s again and Steve shivered at the sparks that jolted across his skin, up his arm.
“Lead the way,” he said again, and Eddie turned to the crew, sketched an overly dramatic bow complete with a little twisted wrist wave.
“Absolute pleasure meeting you all, hope to see you again sometime soon, Dustin I’ll mail you that album, man. Free tickets to the next tour as an apology for stealing your star!” he called, and then he tugged Steve into the kitchen, through the back of the restaurant, and out into the cool evening air.
“Oh my god,” Steve said, as he did up his seatbelt and Eddie’s van pulled out of the parking lot. “Oh my god,” he said again with a laugh, tipping his head back as the reality of the situation crashed into him. “Promise me you didn’t just kidnap me to like, take me back to your coffin and murder me?”
Eddie snorted from beside him and reached over, snagging one of Steve’s hands in his and not letting go.
“I just figured if we didn’t get the fuck out of there I might actually hit my knees in goddamn Scoops, and then I’d never be able to show my face in this town again. They barely tolerate me as it is. But…”
Steve glanced over and caught Eddie biting at his lip, suddenly looking unsure. “I can, uh, take you back. To there, or to your hotel, or, y’know. Wherever. If I came on, uh, too strong. I know you said it yourself but I don’t, like, do this much. Or ever, actually.”
Eddie dropped his hand and Steve wanted to grab for it, pull it back into his own, but Eddie had the steering wheel again and he didn’t want to distract him too much, not with the way Eddie was careening through town.
“You promised me a scenic drive,” he said. And then he paused. Thought about it. Decided, fuck it. Let his voice drop again. Dropped his hand onto Eddie’s thigh and squeezed. “But my hotel room is probably a lot closer.”
Eddie snapped his head around to look at Steve, eyes wide. “Yeah?” he asked, and his voice was a husk too, deep and gravelly.
“I’ll do a lot more than kiss on the first date,” Steve said, giving in to the idea that he wanted this, wanted Eddie, a lot more than he had wanted anyone in a very long time.
“For the right lover,” Eddie said back, tentative.
“Only if you bite.”
Steve could barely keep his hands off of Eddie in the elevator. The hallway. He was conscious that they were in a small town, that even if Eddie seemed pretty comfortable here, anyone in any of the rooms could get a picture that might make all of this a little… awkward.
But as soon as he had the door open, as soon as he crossed the threshold into the room, there were hands on his hips. Steve spun around just in time for Eddie to kick the door behind them, and then Eddie was surging forward, lips crashing into Steve’s.
Steve almost moaned into the kiss as his back hit the wall behind him, as Eddie’s body finally crushed into his. The car ride had dimmed some of the fire that had been cresting in his blood for the past few hours but it surged up with a vengeance as Eddie brushed his pierced tongue against Steve’s, sending more sparks straight down to his cock. Steve slid his hands up and into Eddie’s curls, tightening in them as he kissed back, as he met Eddie stroke for stroke, as he felt any last drop of common sense flitter away on the wind.
“Fuck, you have no idea how hard it was not to grab you across the table and kiss you,” Eddie murmured against him, breaking their lips apart and working his lips across Steve’s jaw, over to his ear, down to his neck.
“Trust me, I think I do,” Steve half-laughed, tipping his head back to give Eddie space for his lips to work their way down his neck, mouthing at his skin, kissing and sucking. “I do need you to know this isn’t… I don’t normally…”
“You could fuck every single person you’ve had on the show and I wouldn’t care,” Eddie laughed into his neck, mouthing down to his collarbone, stopping to suck hard over Steve’s pulse point. The sentiment, though, made his heart swell a little.
“I don’t,” he reassured Eddie, as Eddie dragged the steel ball in his tongue over the hickey he sucked into Steve’s neck. Steve groaned and ground his hips forward into Eddie’s at the sensation. “You as good with that tongue as you think you are?” Steve half-teased, but Eddie took the opportunity to graze his teeth over Steve’s neck. Not a bite, just a promise.
“Tell me what you want, Stevie. Want me to suck you off? Something… more?”
Steve felt his abdomen tense in anticipation. He hadn’t actually thought it through, before bringing Eddie back here. All he’d thought about was how much he wanted him, how intoxicating their little date had been. How he knew that if he let Eddie walk through the door, he might never get this chance again.
How long it had been since anyone had touched him like this and meant it.
“If I ask you to fuck me,” he started, letting his mouth decide what he wanted before his brain had caught up.
“You wouldn’t have to ask twice,” Eddie promised, and then his hands were tugging at Steve’s shirt, pulling it out from the waistband, and then up and over his head. “Fuck, you’re hot,” Eddie groaned, and dropped his head to flick his tongue barbell over Steve’s nipple, pulling another whimper from Steve’s lips.
“Take off the rest of my clothes then, Munson. Think you’ll be impressed.”
Eddie smirked and slid a hand down to cup the front of Steve’s jeans, squeezing the bulge he found there once. “I’m already impressed,” he husked into Steve’s ear, but he complied, unbuttoning Steve’s belt, pushing down his jeans and his boxers in one fell swoop.
“Fuuuuck,” Eddie groaned, and true to his word dropped immediately down to his knees to come level with Steve’s cock.
Steve couldn’t stop himself from moaning at the sight of it. Eddie on his knees, still fully dressed, was absolutely gorgeous. The leather stretching over his back, the flush on his cheeks, the bulge in his own jeans.
“Take off your jacket,” Steve managed to say, and let go of Eddie’s hair so that Eddie could do as Steve bid. His arms were gorgeous, slim but muscular, and his crop top was a tank so Steve could see every ink-covered inch of them, from his shoulders down to his fingertips.
Eddie glanced up at him and smirked. “Like what you see?” he asked, but before Steve could answer, before Steve could call him out on showing up to an interview in the sluttiest outfit known to man, Eddie was dragging his tongue–his fucking tongue piercing–along Steve’s shaft, and Steve had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from blacking out.
“God, fuck, Jesus Christ,” Steve blabbered, as Eddie took him in his lips and sucked.
Eddie hummed around him and sucked Steve down almost to the root. Steve gasped above him and reached down to fist Eddie’s hair, to tug him back and off. “As much as I’m fucking loving this,” Steve said, swallowing to catch his breath and try to ground himself. “If you keep going I’m going to come down your throat and I really meant it when I said I wanted you to fuck me.”
Eddie laughed and leaned back in to bite down gently on Steve’s hip. “Noted,” he murmured into his skin, and then pulled himself up and off the ground.
“God, can’t believe you wore this,” Steve found himself saying, reaching out to drag his hands over Eddie’s narrow waist. Eddie shivered under him and Steve took his distraction to undo Eddie’s stupid fake-studded belt.
“Not every day the Steve Harrington calls you up for a date,” Eddie chuckled, as he helped Steve get his pants off, his own dick springing free as he shoved his boxers off.
“Do you actually like, watch my show?” Steve asked, as he pushed away from the hallway wall and sauntered past Eddie into the bedroom. He beelined to his suitcase and started to dig through it. He knew he had condoms and lube in here somewhere.
He was startled to feel warm fingertips and cool rings pressing against his hip, and even more so to feed Eddie’s erection bump against his ass and grind slightly against him. Steve gasped and had to grab the edges of his suitcase to keep from collapsing.
“Not really,” Eddie admitted, sounding kind of unaffected by the whole thing, but rolling his hips again to show his interest. “Chrissy–my manager and best friend– loves you. When you came out as bi what, like, four years ago? She made me watch your interview with, uhhh… who was it?”
Steve snorted. “Billy Joe Armstrong.”
“Billy Joe!” Eddie called from behind him. “Yeah! God, I’d had a crush on him forever. But like. A musical boner, you know? So Chrissy made me watch it and I was like uhh isn’t he married, right? But it was such a good video, just the two of you having this very open and frank conversation about bisexuality in Hollywood, and like. Look, I’ve got eyes.” Eddie trailed his hands over Steve’s ass as he spoke and Steve finally managed to grasp the bottle of lube, pulling it out of the case with a triumphant smile.
“Well,” Steve started, turning in Eddie’s grasp to press their lips together again, pushing the bottle of lube into Eddie’s hand. “It was like. Right when you got outed,” he admitted, with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t really know who you were, you’re not like, my genre, but… Robin and I followed it really closely, and she said like. If I was going to have this platform and exist as a bisexual man and show solidarity to other queer artists going through it, like. I should do something about it.”
He let out a breath, remembering it very clearly. “Because everyone, I mean, Dustin said that everyone, thought that maybe you were going to crash and burn. That metal didn’t have space for another queer frontman, right? And like, yeah, I’d dated dudes on my show but no one ever took them seriously as dates and…”
Eddie caught his lips in another fierce kiss. “We could have been fucking so much earlier,” he laughed against Steve.
“We could be fucking right now,” Steve pointed out, teasingly, and pushed Eddie back towards the bed.
Eddie rolled them, dropping Steve’s back on the mattress, and paused to drop his rings off on the bedside table. He skirted his way down Steve’s body, kissing and licking and nipping at his skin as he went.
When he reached Steve’s cock again he took it back between his lips and Steve couldn’t help but watch, entranced, at the way Eddie stretched around him, at the slick slide of his lips over Steve’s cock.
And then, as he relaxed into it, as he sunk down into the blissful feeling of a hot mouth on his cock, Eddie pressed one lubed-up finger into him.
Steve moaned and twisted his hips up off the bed but Eddie held him still, kept him grounded.
“God,” Eddie moaned around him, sliding off to drag his pierced tongue up Steve’s shaft. Steve shut his eyes because watching was too intense, and Eddie took him apart. So fucking slow, one finger sliding in and out, and then a second. Eddie stretched his fingers apart, worked Steve open, and Steve lay still and took it because he didn’t fucking know what else to do. Didn’t know how to handle the sensations of Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s tongue, Eddie’s fingers.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated, like a mantra, fisting his hands in the sheets, letting Eddie give him everything he could. “Please, fucking, Eddie, need you so bad, need you inside me,” he babbled, begging and nonsensical, all rational thoughts gone in the haze of want and need.
“You ready, baby?” Eddie asked, nipping once at Steve’s thigh. Steve was going to be covered in bites and bruises, but he had asked for exactly that.
“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Steve gasped, and cracked his eyes open to watch.
Eddie nodded and slid his fingers out and Steve whimpered as he clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled. Eddie sat up and Steve realized he was still in the crop top, and he would have laughed except all he could do was watch the way Eddie rolled a condom over himself, covered himself in lube and moaned as he fucked into his own fist a few times.
Eddie shifted, a hand on either side of Steve’s head to brace himself. “You sure?” he asked again.
“If you do’t fuck me right this minute-” Steve huffed, and Eddie laughed, bright and clear, and kissed him again, like he was starving for air and Steve was his only reprieve.
And then Eddie’s head bumped against his entrance and Steve had to break away to hiss a breath out, getting ready.
Eddie pushed inside so fucking slow it was its own form of torture. The stretch was delicious, the immediate feeling of fullness as Eddie fed him inch after inch. Steve was a mess, one hand tangling back up in Eddie’s hair, the other grasping helplessly at the sheets.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” Eddie moaned, right into Steve’s ear. Steve couldn’t even form words to respond with, just gasped and moaned and whimpered and then finally Eddie was fully in and he paused so they could both catch their breath.
“God, fuck,” Steve breathed out, eyes shut.
“Not… not gonna last long, Steve,” Eddie admitted, and Steve opened his eyes to look up into Eddie’s, to see the way he was barely hanging on. And wasn’t that fucking hot as hell?
“Me neither,” Steve admitted, because it really had been too long, and he had wanted this so badly and now he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t even think straight.
Eddie shifted a little and they both moaned. Eddie pressed his head down into the crook of Steve’s neck, mouthing at the soft skin, and started to thrust. So slow, and so shallow, but fuck if it wasn’t exactly what Steve needed.
And then one of Eddie’s hands wrapped around Steve’s cock.
“Fuck, fuck,” Steve grit out, and Eddie nodded, kissed his skin again.
“Don’t hold out on my account,” Eddie panted, and kept thrusting, tipping his hips so he bumped right into Steve’s prostate on every thrust.
And Steve listened well to instructions, gasping and moaning and writhing under each thrust of Eddie’s cock, each twist of his wrist, and–
“Oh fuck, Eddie, oh fuck–” he shouted, and just as he crashed over the edge Eddie’s teeth sunk into his shoulder as Eddie followed him over. Steve felt himself spurt come between them, covering his stomach, ruining Eddie’s crop, as Eddie tensed and spasmed inside of him, as Eddie’s teeth pressed into his skin, an edge of pain to help him ride out the pleasure of it all.
Slowly, carefully, Eddie pulled out of him, unlatched himself from Steve’s shoulder and kissed the spot he’d bitten with tender care. Steve lay on the bed, panting and sweaty and wrecked, and there was shifting around that he couldn’t track. A weight change as Eddie got up, soft feet padding to the bathroom. A warm washcloth dragging over his stomach, cleaning him up.
And then: strong arms sliding around him, a hot body–finally shirtless–pressing up against his back, holding him tight.
Steve let out a contented sigh as he shifted back into Eddie.
“You,” Eddie said into his ear, on the edge of a soft laugh.
“Huh?” Steve murmured, his body still floating high on the wave of pleasure, on the tenderness Eddie had shown him.
Considerate lover was certainly right.
“You’re who’s for dessert.”