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Eddie can smell the stress on Steve as soon as he enters the house.
He’s been tense all day, and Eddie knows he won’t be able to explain why - he’s tried enough times throughout their marriage to put it into words, the nagging presence at the edge of his consciousness, a pressure in his mind and teasing at his awareness that he can’t get to come forth fully. It had been present when they’d woken that morning, slipping from bed together, Eddie peppering his husband’s face with kisses only to get an absent smile in return.
He hadn’t taken it personally - he’s long-since become familiar with Steve’s peculiarities. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave him to spiral in them.
He lets him get away with it for a good part of the day, mostly because Steve insists. Eddie’s got an album deadline fast approaching, and just because he has all the time in the world, doesn’t mean his record label does. But when he comes home to find Steve absently pacing through the living room, mumbling beneath his breath, he has to intervene.
His footsteps aren’t quiet - his boots thunk against the hardwood, and normally Steve would snip at him to leave them by the door, but he doesn’t so much as look up when Eddie enters the room.
“Angel,” Eddie says quietly, and only gets an absent hum for his trouble. He frowns a little, cocking his head to the side and pausing a few feet away. “Baby,” he tries again, and Steve doesn’t react.
“Steve,” he says finally, and Steve looks up - but not at him. Through him, almost, his eyes staring into some far-off place that only he can see.
“Where can the path go when it branches?” he asks, “Where does it end when it breaks?” Eddie stares at him in silence, waiting.
Then Steve blinks, and his eyes focus. His gaze darts to Eddie’s. “Oh,” he says, surprised. “Welcome home. You’re early,” he says absently, and Eddie shakes his head.
“Right on time, actually,” he says, smiling a little. Steve frowns, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“...Oh,” he says again, and Eddie doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t make Steve try to explain or make an excuse as to how he’s lost time. Eddie knows.
Instead he closes the distance between the two of them, taking Steve in.
His shoulders are tight, knotted up near his ears, his posture too perfect, too straight. His hands keep curling into fists at his sides, jaw working, flexing each time he clenches it.
His pretty eyes have shadows beneath them, and Eddie makes a soft sound, reaching for him. “Come here, baby,” he says, and Steve comes easily, letting the hand Eddie slips to the back of his neck pull him in close.
He kisses him softly, lingering on his mouth, capturing his lips once, twice, three times, nipping softly at them. Steve kisses back, hands raising, and Eddie lets his fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. His grip is tight, almost desperate, like he’s searching for a tether.
Eddie will gladly give him one.
He doesn’t do this often - in fact, it’s rare for him to use his gifts this way. But Steve trusts him. Steve allows him.
And so the hand at the back of Steve’s neck tightens, squeezing the taut muscles there, making Steve give a soft sound against Eddie’s mouth. He pulls back, breaking the kiss, holding Steve in place when he tries to rise up and meet him again.
His vision sharpens suddenly, throwing Steve in sharp relief in front of him, and he watches Steve’s eyes widen at the sight, knows his irises are glowing red.
“Relax,” he breathes, and he feels Steve obey.
“Oh,” he sighs, and his shoulders drop. His hands unclench, his jaw loosens, his posture slumps. He gives a few slow blinks, then lifts his head, gazing up at his husband.
“There we go, angel,” Eddie says, and he pulls Steve close again, and if he didn’t resist before, this time he all but falls into Eddie’s arms as he claims his mouth with his own, careful of his fangs.
Sometimes Steve needs a firm hand. Needs Eddie to take hold of him, use that strength that comes so supernaturally to him to put him in his place. Sometimes he needs a gentle touch, to be guided and coaxed into being good.
And sometimes he needs a mix of both. Needs to be shown care and affection, needs to be touched like he’s something precious, which is never a hardship - Steve’s the most precious being Eddie’s ever come across - but he still needs that loss of control. Needs to be told. Needs to be pushed.
Eddie loves to push.
It’s gorgeous every time, the way Steve slips so easily beneath Eddie’s control. He’s so beautiful, so trusting.
A cool hand finds Steve’s hip, fingertips brushing at the stripe of exposed skin between his jeans and his shirt, nails trailing over the hair of his stomach and making him shiver. Eddie hums, trailing his touch further up, until he can rest his palm over Steve’s heart. It skips a beat beneath his touch, and Eddie’s eyes flutter at the feeling.
Slowly, he ducks his head, tucking his nose into the hollow behind Steve’s ear. He nuzzles there teasingly, then inhales deep. His exhale is a barely contained moan, eyes fluttering.
“Fuck, you’re so damn sweet, you know that?” he murmurs, and Steve scoffs, but it lacks heat.
“Just because you think blood tastes like candy,” he mumbles, and Eddie laughs.
“Just yours, sweetheart,” he says playfully, and he flicks his tongue out to lick a stripe up the side of Steve’s neck. Steve makes a disgusted sound, but Eddie feels the heat beneath his skin flare. He pulls back and moves too fast for Steve to follow, grabbing his upper arm with one hand and his jaw with the other as he spins him to the side, pinning him to the wall.
“Eddie!” Steve gasps, and Eddie just smiles, squeezing gently at Steve’s cheeks until his lips push out in a little pink pout.
“Hush,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Steve’s again. Steve sighs, and he tries to tense, but Eddie can feel the struggle he has to take control of his own movements, Eddie’s command leaving his muscles lax.
“Eddie…” he says again, breathless and soft, and Eddie pulls back, tucks his chin a bit, gazing down at Steve’s wide eyes and pinched brows.
“You gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, “let me get you out of this pretty head of yours?” Steve’s eyes flutter slightly, and then slowly, he nods.
“Yes,” he whispers. Then he looks up at Eddie from beneath those thick lashes, bats them a little, and says “please?” all sweet, and Eddie can’t help the soft snarl that leaves him.
He kisses him again, a little harder, commanding, growling in approval when Steve parts his lips and slumps against the wall, giving up control.
It doesn’t take long to get Steve worked up - Eddie slots his leg between Steve’s, feels his half hard cock against his thigh, and lets his hips rock against him, rolling his own forward and pressing into the soft give of his husband’s body. Steve lets out these gorgeous little sounds, whiny and needy, exactly how Eddie likes him, and he drags his mouth down from Steve’s so he can hear them better, nipping and sucking at his jawline instead.
There’s countless perks to being an incubus that Eddie loves to indulge in, but this is by far one of his favorites - the effect his Voice can have. The way anything he tells Steve to do, he simply does, doe-eyed and hungry for Eddie, blood singing for him, affection and lust twining through him and leaving him pliant and wanting.
“Please,” Steve says again, and Eddie hums.
“Please what, baby?” he asks, smiling against Steve’s throat and making him gasp.
“You know what,” he complains, and Eddie shakes his head, kissing right over Steve’s pulse. It makes his teeth ache.
"Tell me," Eddie commands, and Steve's breath catches in his throat. His head falls back, resting against the wall, his eyes going a little hooded.
"I want you to bite me," he breathes obediently. Two twin blooms of pink are starting to form on his cheeks, staining his skin.
"Why?" Eddie asks, patient.
"Because you need it." Steve raises a hand, cupping Eddie's pale cheek, thumb smoothing along the delicate skin beneath his eye in a barely there touch. Eddie closes his eyes and turns his head just enough to kiss the heel of Steve's hand, breathing in at the wrist, scenting the blood rushing beneath the skin. He reaches up, taking Steve's hand in his so he can kiss his pulse, skin hot against Eddie's cool lips.
"And?" Eddie murmurs into the skin, opening his eyes to fix them onto Steve's face, because yes, Steve’s right, but he knows that isn't the only reason.
Steve's flush spreads, teeth catching his lower lip and worrying at it, and Eddie just arches a brow, waiting him out.
"And because I need it," he confesses after a beat, and Eddie smiles at him, slow and dangerous.
“I know you do, sweetheart,” he tells him, and he leans in again, humming at the sigh Steve lets out as he decorates his throat with soft brushes of lips. “Can I take you to bed first?” he asks, and Steve huffs at him, hands finding Eddie’s shirt again, curling tight.
“Do you have to?” he complains, and Eddie laughs, indulgent.
“Afraid I do,” he says. “Hold tight,” he tells him, and then he reaches down, grasping Steve’s thighs and lifting him, drawing a surprised sound from his husband.
He has him up the stairs in record time, Steve tucked into him, laughing breathlessly at the speed with which Eddie is capable of moving. Steve isn’t a small man, but the weight of him isn’t difficult for Eddie to take - yet another vampire perk, he thinks smugly, squeezing the muscle beneath his hands appreciatively.
Steve’s heart is beating fast, Eddie can hear it if he focuses, and he can feel it against his own chest, keeping Steve close even as he sets him back down on his feet.
The bedroom is dim, the lamps that Steve prefers glowing from the corners, casting the room in a warm orange glow, throwing shadows here and there, but Eddie’s vision picks Steve out flawlessly regardless. He lays his hands at Steve’s hips, slowly drawing him closer to the haphazardly made bed.
He takes his time stripping Steve, dragging his shirt over his head, tousling his hair a little with the motion and making him scrunch his nose up at him. Eddie just laughs softly. “What, you wanna get blood all over your shirt again?” he asks, and Steve huffs, but a smile teases at his lips.
“Not my fault you’re a messy eater,” he shoots back, and Eddie snorts.
“Not my fault you like me making a mess of you,” he refutes, and Steve’s flush is back full-force. Eddie’s gaze falls to Steve’s throat again, watching it work as Steve swallows, and his own lips part, tongue dragging over them absently.
Nothing in the world has ever tasted as divine as Steve. He doesn’t know what it is, if it’s just Steve being special or that he’s his soulmate or if it’s his freaky Seer blood that sings so sweetly to Eddie, tethers him to this man so wholly, but he can’t bring himself to care one way or another. All that truly matters is that it’s Steve. That’s all Eddie’s ever needed.
He drops his hands to Steve’s jeans, stops only long enough to pull his own shirt off when Steve gives an insistent little pull. If his baby wants him stripped down too, Eddie’s never gonna say no to that, but when he starts getting a little bossy, tugging at the fly of Eddie’s pants, he gives a sharp little sound.
“Still,” he says, and Steve’s hands freeze with a gasp. Eddie can’t deny the shiver of pleasure that slides down his spine at the immediacy of Steve’s obedience, and he uses it to his advantage, slowly stripping Steve the rest of the way, teasing at his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly, Steve’s heavy breathing and the metal teeth against one another the loudest sounds in the room.
He lets the denim fall to Steve’s feet, dragging his gaze over him in a lazy up and down, keeping a hand on him because he knows Steve will want the anchor. He’s tenting his boxers already, hard and wanting, and Eddie hums approvingly, tracing the waistband of them with a fingertip.
“Off?” he asks, and Steve nods, a little sluggish. Eddie listens, dropping the fabric to the floor. “So pretty, baby,” he says, and Steve’s cock twitches. Eddie drops his hand, wrapping it around Steve’s length and reveling in the moan that Steve lets out as he strokes him slowly.
He’s so much less reserved like this, beneath Eddie’s spell, all sweet cloudy eyes and parted lips with a dick hard enough to hurt, all without hardly any effort on Eddie’s part. It would be addictive, if Steve’s wellbeing wasn’t Eddie’s number one priority. Even still, hunger coils tight in his stomach and makes his gums throb. He licks over his fangs, and claims Steve’s mouth, moaning as Steve lazily kisses back, slow on the uptake but no less eager.
“There’s my sweet boy,” Eddie whispers into his mouth, and Steve hums his agreement, hands a little clumsy as Eddie’s command fades from him and he’s able to take hold of him again. Eddie smiles against his lips, gently nicking the full skin with a fang and licking up the swell of blood that forms as Steve gasps.
The flavor bursts on Eddie’s tongue, as hypnotizing and arresting as it was the first time he got a taste of this gorgeous man, and he moans, sucking gently on Steve’s lip to pull the smallest bit more blood to the surface. Warm, sweet, damn near overwhelming, like a ripe strawberry in summer, a pomegranate in fall, familiar and dizzying all at once. Steve’s panting when he releases him, eyes heavy and hazy, and it’s not enough for either of them, Eddie knows, the fire in his stomach only growing when he’s so close to what he wants.
“Please,” Steve whispers, and Eddie can’t deny him a thing, not when his voice is as sweet as his blood.
Eddie knows how lucky he is, that his husband is so willing, so eager, to give him what he needs to survive, that he lets him take it from his own veins. But he also knows it isn’t a one way street.
If his Voice is an aphrodisiac for a human, arresting and designed to draw in prey, to allow him to pull that adoring energy from them that keeps him going, it’s got nothing on the ecstasy, the relief, his bite gives. It’s a shot to the heart, a blow to the face, overwhelming and intense in all of the best ways, and for the rest of his days, it’s all for Steve.
“Okay, baby,” he agrees, and his hand shifts, raises, takes a gentle hold of Steve’s jaw once again. He tips back with the touch easily, barely needs to be guided before his head is falling and his throat is stretched out, muscle taut, tan skin glowing in the soft light, Adam’s apple bobbing.
He’s got these two little moles right at the side of his throat. Small and sweet, perfectly placed, like they were made for Eddie. He leans in, pressing his nose to the space between the marks and inhaling, tongue flicking out just to tease, but he doesn’t make Steve - or himself - wait too much longer.
With one last kiss to Steve’s soft skin, he parts his lips, lines up to those pretty marks, and sinks his teeth into his husband’s throat.
They moan in tandem, Steve jerking the slightest bit, and Eddie slides a hand up his back to tangle in his hair, pulling his head back and holding him in place.
There aren’t words for the pleasure that shoots through Eddie at the taste of him, the need his baby inspires in him at the slightest taste. He gasps softly, feels sticky red smear at his lips, and then he seals over the wound and sucks, shuddering as he takes long pulls of blood.
He can feel every bit of exhaustion or tension leave his body. His hands, usually chilled, begin to warm, the heat of Steve’s skin beneath his touch no longer such a stark difference from his own.
It’s making a bit of a mess, he knows, but he just clutches Steve tighter, losing himself in it for a moment, the taste and sensation and moans Steve’s letting out all melding together in the best kind of symphony Eddie’s ever known.
He doesn’t let it go too long, though. As delicious as Steve is, as good as it feels, he won’t risk him, and so he ignores the plaintive sound he makes as he pulls away from his neck. He blinks his eyes open, as full as he’ll allow himself to be off of Steve’s blood, and sweeps his eyes over him, taking him in.
“Eddie,” Steve sighs, barely more than a breath. His eyes are blown, irises thin hazel rings around his wide pupils. He sways a bit where he stands, a small, pleased smile stealing over his face. Eddie cups his face, thumb smoothing over his cheek where a hint of wetness has formed.
“With me, sweetheart?” he asks, keeping his gaze fixed on Steve’s face, resolutely ignoring the slow trickle of blood running from the bite and down the line of Steve’s throat. Steve blinks once, twice, shakes his head a little, then nods.
“Yeah - yes,” he manages, and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his gaze drops to Eddie’s mouth. He licks over his lips, cleaning the blood from them, and gives him a sharp toothed smile.
“Eyes on me,” he tells him, and Steve looks back up, meeting his eyes. Eddie watches him for a moment, assessing, and then leans in again. Steve raises as if to meet him, but Eddie goes for his neck instead of his mouth, tongue finding the warm drip of blood and tracing it back to its source.
He drags his tongue over the wound as Steve gasps, saliva sealing it so it can heal. He was gentle - it shouldn’t scar, shouldn’t leave any sign that he’d been here at all, and he kisses those two marks once more, before sliding up and kissing Steve’s mouth.
It’s messy and a little uncoordinated and all the more perfect for it, Steve clutching at his arms, hips pressing forward where he’s bare and Eddie still has his jeans on. He tears them off in a moment, leaving them to join Steve’s clothes on the floor and pulling him along.
“Get on the bed,” he says, and he helps Steve to obey, his limbs a little clumsy as he falls back onto the mattress, sliding up until his head is on the silky pillowcase and Eddie can slip himself between his legs.
He stares up at Eddie with stars in his eyes, and there’s nothing Eddie can do but touch him, has to get his hands on him, gentle and reverent. He squeezes at his hips, sweeps his hands up his sides, decorates his face and neck and chest with kisses, cleaning each little smear of red he leaves behind with another press of his lips.
Their hips roll against one another, cocks leaking, a slow, steady grind as Eddie whispers in his husband’s ear.
“Gorgeous boy,” he tells him, and Steve tosses his head back, his wide palms sweeping over Eddie’s back, tracing the ink of his tattoos by memory alone, no sight needed. “Look at you, look at this pretty face.” He kisses Steve’s cheek, his forehead, his nose, nips at his jaw and just barely keeps from drawing blood.
He reaches for the lube, whispers “relax,” to Steve yet again, feels him go completely boneless beneath him as he works him open with careful fingers, murmuring sweet praise in his ear the entire time because he knows his baby needs it sweet, and there’s nothing in the world Eddie loves more than giving Steve exactly what he needs.
“Spread,” he says, and Steve’s legs part, head lolling on the pillow and eyes glassy and distant - not with a vision, not with a unique kind of torment only for him, but with pleasure. Dizzy with the sensations Eddie’s sent through his husband’s body. He eases his fingers free of his hole and reaches for his own cock, stroking a few times as he shifts closer, and he gets to watch Steve’s mouth go slack and his eyes roll back as he eases his way inside.
“Fuck,” Eddie bites out, rocking a few times, sinking deeper with each movement. Steve’s body welcomes him, and Eddie thumbs at his hips, holding him in place. “Like you were made for me, angel,” he tells him. “Mine to bite and fuck and love, hm? Is that what you are? Answer.”
“Yes,” Steve gasps, “yours, ‘m yours,” he manages and Eddie leans down, covering Steve’s body with his own as he kisses him deeply, languidly, matching it to the motion of their hips, Steve rocking up into him with barely there movements as Eddie takes him slow and gentle, thrusting deep and taking his time pulling back to do it all over again.
“Beautiful,” Eddie whispers in the hot space between them, “my gorgeous, beautiful baby. Look how pretty you are, so sweet, so good, so loved,” he praises, and Steve gazes up at him like he’s something ethereal, something he’s blessed to experience, like Steve himself isn’t the out of this world gift Eddie’s somehow stumbled upon.
They wrap around one another, Eddie’s hands cradling Steve close, Steve’s legs hitched around Eddie’s hips, and they trade messy kisses and touches, Eddie soothing Steve as he whines, telling him to “settle,” to take what he’s given, and he obeys beautifully, giving in to the control Eddie exerts, limbs heavy, very nearly limp beneath him.
They’re not going to last long - they never do when it’s like this, not unless Eddie commands it, but that’s not what’s happening tonight. Tonight he’s getting Steve out of his own head, taking control, allowing him the rest he won’t allow himself, and so as their pleasure grows, he pulls back, meets Steve’s eyes, stars and all, and tells him, “come.”
He’s a goddamn vision when it happens, pretty eyes going wide before rolling back, slack mouth dropping wider, sobbing his pleasure as his back arches and his cock twitches, shooting white all over his own stomach, up his chest, to his chin. Eddie doesn’t stop, just fucks him through it, moaning as Steve goes tight around him. He reaches for him, grabbing Steve’s hands and lacing their fingers together, feeling the twitching of Steve’s digits as he tries to clutch him back. But there’s not an ounce of strength left in his muscles, and he slumps down to the mattress, ragdoll loose and sniffling softly. Eddie slows, and Steve gives a quiet whine.
“Oh, angel,” he whispers, freeing a hand to sweep Steve’s hair from his forehead, and he tilts into the touch like a cat. “Beautiful, you’re so good, listen to me so well, did so perfect. You’re perfect, sweet boy, so, so perfect,” he tells him, and Steve fights his eyes open, exhausted but a warm light shining in them as he fixes them to Eddie.
He smiles, pleased and sweet, and whispers, “will you come inside me?” and for fuck’s sake, what is Eddie supposed to do in the face of that?
“Christ,” he grits out, “yeah, baby, you want it?”
“Uh huh,” Steve says, nodding lazily. “Wanna feel it.” He fixes those big, sleepy eyes to Eddie, licks his lips, and whispers, “please?” and Eddie’s gone.
He sinks in as deep as he can, grinds against Steve, watches the way it makes his eyes flutter and his spent cock twitch fruitlessly, and comes so hard he thinks he might black out for a moment. “Fuck, Steve,” he gasps out, and Steve lets out a throaty moan, thighs twitching like he’s trying to pull Eddie in closer, only he’s too exhausted to manage it. Eddie catches himself on a hand next to Steve’s head, panting softly, watching the way Steve struggles to blink his eyes open again.
“God I love you,” Eddie whispers, and Steve hums.
“Mm, love you too,” he manages, words slurring.
“You finished, angel?” Eddie asks, reaching with his free hand to cup Steve’s face again, and he strokes his cheekbone until he can get that gaze on him once more. He gets a nod for his trouble, and Eddie smiles. “Okay, baby.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Steve sighs contently, like he knows what’s coming, legs falling from around Eddie, and by the time Eddie whispers “sleep,” into Steve’s ear, he’s already drifting off. He goes limp beneath him, his breathing deep and even, and Eddie slowly eases back, taking in the serene look on Steve’s face. He presses a kiss to his slack mouth, and then pulls the blankets over his husband.
