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Eddie’s skin feels too tight.
The streetlights flash by outside, periodically lighting up Buck’s face and casting weird shadows over his cheeks. It was nearly midnight before they all left the hospital. The adrenaline spike is wearing off. He feels jittery and annoyed. Every frustration from the past year is weighing heavy on his shoulders. He’s worried about Hen, and pissed at himself for not catching this sooner.
It’s not just that though, he’s mad at Buck– for provoking him in the first place, sure, but also for stopping. He had Eddie’s blood pumping, adrenaline spiked, ready for a real argument, and then he’d simply let it fizzle out.
It doesn’t make sense, but he’s itching to pick a fight. The same buzz that would ignite just under his skin when Shannon would purposely press on a bruise tickles at his nerves. Was it toxic? Sure. But it also led to the best catharsis Eddie ever really got.
Shannon would pick. Eddie would bait. By the end of the night they’d be yelling, or hissing low and mean, and Eddie would feel the energy bubbling through his veins, finally finding a way out. Then, somewhere along the way, the words would give way to lips and tongue and teeth, and then the real release would finally envelop them.
It’s been years since Eddie’s had that, but tonight– Tonight he needs something. A shared beer on the couch before bed, at least.
When they finally pull up in front of his house, it’s completely dark. Chris is at a friend’s tonight, and suddenly the idea of being alone tonight is too much. He’s already angry and stewing, the number of nights he’s spent on his own in this house have tallied far too high.
“It’s late,” He reminds as Buck continues to idle in his driveway. He’s unwilling to actually open the door and get out just yet. “You should just stay here tonight.”
Buck lets out a deep sigh and makes no move to turn the truck off. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched, knuckles white where they’re wrapped around the steering wheel.
“I think I should just go home tonight, Eddie.”
That thrum is back, the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. Buck had said it so calmly. So carefully constructed. Like Eddie is some clinging girlfriend he doesn’t want around.
What does Buck want from him here, huh? All he’s asking for is what Buck used to give him without a shred of hesitation: companionship, his warmth and presence filling up the Diaz house and pressing all the dark corners back, back, back. Is Eddie supposed to grovel? Pick a fight for real?
He never used to have to even ask. Now, Buck’s busy. He can’t be bothered to spend his free time at South Bedford with Eddie. But he’ll go out and find himself sandwiched between hot couples who don’t seem to want anything more from him than a hot body, who are willing to lie to him and play games with his heart for their own fun. Looking for a third Eddie’s ass.
“Of course,” Eddie bites, turning to face him fully now. “We both know you can’t wait to get out of here.” It’s a shitty thing to say, and not wholly true. Buck stepped up and moved in here to help him out, and Eddie is forever grateful for that. He’s just still a little bitter about the way he left in such a rush as soon as Eddie and Christopher moved back in.
Like suddenly he minded the close quarters.
He doesn’t wait for Buck’s response, moving to get out and slam the door behind himself. It echoes around the mostly empty neighborhood, loud against the low hum of the interstate in the distance and the slightly louder rumble of the engine. It works though, because suddenly the truck is off, and there’s the sound of a second slamming door.
“Fuck you,” he hears Buck growl, it only takes two long strides until he catches up to Eddie. Like a dog who doesn’t know their own size, he’s knocking clumsily into his space, hand curling around Eddie’s bicep– whether to steady him or insisting on his attention, Eddie’s not sure. He doesn’t much care. “You know that’s not true.”
“Do I?” Eddie demands, voice coming out more shrill than he intended. Three houses down, a porch light flickers on. They’re being too loud, making a scene. “Just–c’mon,” he demands, jerking out of Buck’s grip and marching forward until he can get the door unlocked with fumbling hands.
By some miracle, Buck actually listens and Eddie can feel his presence as he follows him inside.
“Is it a crime for me to want to go home and sleep in my own bed?” He demands, as soon as the door is shut behind him. Despite the fact that this argument seems to just be getting started, the soft click of Buck sliding the lock into place settles something inside of him. They’re here together now. Buck’s not leaving.
“Oh no, man, I know how important it is for you to have your own bed.” The one lamp on the end table next to the couch is on, casting a warm glow over Buck’s face in the otherwise dark room. It only highlights the furrow of his brow, the irritation laced across his features, the way his birthmark is darkening with every new jab Eddie throws his way.
“Oh my god, not this conversation again,” Buck groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple. “What the fuck did you want me to do? Was I-I-I supposed to sleep on your couch for the next thirty years?”
“Of course not!” Eddie intones, voice pitched unnaturally to inject the highest possible level of sarcasm. “Couldn’t bring your threesomes back to a couch when there’s a kid sleeping down the hall.”
Buck’s birthmark is flushing bright red, now. It fills Eddie with some sick sense of accomplishment. Buck’s got both hands in the air, too, out in front of him like he’s debating strangling Eddie with them. Well, at least that would be something. Better than being replaced by a dog, or being dragged out to clubs so he can watch Buck get hit on by every being with a pulse.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Buck curses. “That wasn’t what happened at all, and you know it.”
“You’ve still got their phone numbers, right? Could just call them up whenever you’re feeling lonely?” Eddie doesn’t know why that thought bothers him so much, but it fucking does. “But why bother? You don’t even need to. Could just go back out to a club and sleep with anyone who throws themselves at you there. Then you wouldn’t have to come back here at all. All the company you need, right at your fingertips.”
He’s gathering steam, and pretty soon he’s not going to be able to stop. That’s the thing about knowing someone inside and out the way he and Buck know each other– it’s so, so easy to hit exactly where it hurts.
“You know, maybe that’s why you didn’t notice anything going on with Hen. Maybe that’s why you’re so pissed at Chimney for doing his job.”
He’s pretty sure he can see that vein in Buck’s forehead throbbing even in the dim light. “God, Eddie,” Buck bites out, tone darker and quieter than Eddie ever normally hears it. “It– s’like you want me to hit you.”
Eddie freezes. Is that what he wants? He wanted a fight, wanted to feel the warmth of Buck’s body nearby for as long as he was allowed. He never really thought much beyond that. What would Buck actually do? Punch him? Grapple for his limbs and take Eddie down to the ground?
He could, Eddie knows that much, but he wonders if Buck would lose his nerve once it actually came time to hit him.
God knows Buck’s had plenty of opportunities to do so before now, but he never has. Then again, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted him to quite this badly.
“If I let you, you gonna start respecting the chain of command?”
The barb hits its mark with stunning accuracy, and suddenly Eddie’s being forced back, crowded up against the wall, nowhere to go. The heat radiating off Buck is enough to drown him, his body solid and real and immovable. Eddie has the irrational urge to relax into it, let Buck force him wherever he thinks Eddie should be. Trap him there and make sure he can’t make another mistake.
His breath is hot on Eddie’s face when he grinds out, “I fucking dare you to say it one more time.”
“Or else what?” Eddie dares for the second time tonight, heart rabbiting so hard against his ribcage that he thinks Buck can probably feel it as well. He can probably also feel the way blood is filling Eddie’s cock, trapped between their bodies, but that’s okay. It’s not out of the ordinary when a fight gets physical. Buck has done enough rough housing to know that.
And he’s there, face just inches from Eddie’s, forearm braced against Eddie’s sternum so that he feels it every time his ribs expand. It’s all heat and strength and that fizz below his skin that makes him feel like he might be losing his mind. They’re so close like this that for a second he actually thinks Buck might be about to kiss him.
Buck doesn’t say anything, just licks his lips, eyes trained on his mouth like he can’t meet his eye. Eddie waits a beat, then baits him, “Chain of command.”
Buck nods, just once, and then all fucking hell breaks loose. It’s so fast, he’s not sure which of them makes the first move but, suddenly, Eddie’s on the floor, grappling with Buck for some sort of dominance. Buck has his legs pinned, full weight bearing down against him as he tries to hold him still.
It’s close. It’s so close to what Eddie's been craving all night, warmth and closeness and Buck. And it’s all crashing into him all at once.
Despite the training he’s constantly relying upon, all Eddie can think about is that look. Buck’s eyes glued to Eddie’s lips, poised to kiss him senseless with all the passion and fervor and anger they’ve stoked in each other tonight. It would feel so good, and what’s a few kisses between friends as close as they are?
It doesn’t seem like that’s what Buck wants though. He uses Eddie’s distraction and his own brute strength to pin him, keeping as much distance between them as he can in this position.
“Just fucking–” Buck grinds out, trying to hold Eddie back despite Eddie’s best efforts to get closer, get more. “Why are you doing this?”
He sounds so earnest, so Buck, that Eddie can’t help but let the truth tumble out of clumsy lips. “Your hands.”
Buck stops, his grip only used to keep Eddie at bay now. “What?”
Eddie knows the pink on his face isn’t exertion. It’s pure, hot, ugly shame. But he’s too fucking tired to lie, and he needs Buck too fucking much. “Had to pick a fight. Wanted your hands on me.”
Buck stares at him for a long moment, and Eddie could laugh about him buffering if this were another night. As it is, he just waits as Buck’s blank stare turns into a searching one, and then he’s raking his eyes over Eddie’s body, landing squarely where he’s so hard in his pants that it’s surprising there’s any blood left in his body to paint his face pink.
It’s the most vulnerable Eddie has ever felt, pinned down by the weight of Buck’s gaze. He’s still fully clothed, but he might as well be stripped completely bare. There’s a moment where everything hangs between them, a precarious balance of everything they know and what’s yet to come. For a second, Buck’s face is unreadable, in a way it never has been to him before. He thinks Buck is about to shove him away and then– Is he actually going to–?
“Fucking–” Buck snatches a hold of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him up alongside himself. “How many hours of therapy is it gonna take for you to use your fucking words?” He spits, and then Eddie’s world tilts on its axis, and they’re on the couch, Buck sitting down and Eddie tossed over his knee like a disobedient child. It’s the same way his father punished him when he was seven for breaking the kitchen window playing baseball in the backyard. Only this time, there’s no dread, no fear.
No, what Eddie’s feeling now is undeniably anticipation.
It steals the breath from his lungs. He thought maybe Buck would kiss him, or toss him on the couch and rut against him til they got each other messy. Instead, Buck’s yanking Eddie’s pants and underwear down over the curve of his ass, and laying a hard spank to the bared flesh. It’s so far from what he imagined, yet it’s exactly what he’s been craving. Trust that Buck would just know.
“This what you wanted, you asshole?”
Eddie’s blood sings with it, anticipation coursing through every artery. Yes. This. This is what he’s been needing. Eddie makes some sort of pathetic noise in response, and Buck mutters to himself, “Can’t ever just fucking ask.” But he’s hard against Eddie’s stomach, so Eddie isn’t too worried about it.
“Answer me, Eddie,” Buck’s voice is stern, but not quite so mean. Instead of hitting him again, he’s petting at his hot skin, at what is almost assuredly a pink handprint on Eddie’s ass. “Is this what you want?” It’s clear now, he’s not going to continue until he knows for sure.
It’s ridiculous really, Eddie’s harder than he’s ever been, fighting to keep from squirming on Buck’s lap. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be. He’s tempted to wait him out, see if Buck might give up and slap him again, but Buck can be so fucking stubborn when he wants to be. The only thing that makes him finally answer is knowing that Buck isn’t getting off on the mortification of making him admit it, he’s just trying to be responsible.
“Yes,” he gasps, face tucked into the fabric of the couch, word just barely audible.
“There we go,” Buck’s voice is a gentle balm. “That wasn’t so hard.” The condescension in his tone only makes Eddie grind down against him, dick throbbing where it’s trapped.
He still wants Buck’s lips on his, still wants whatever Buck will give him when he’s done reddening Eddie’s ass, but the relief that’s crashing over him now is like nothing he’s ever felt. Make-up sex with Shannon and the release of fight club and standing on Buck’s doorstep with apology takeout combined don’t even come close to the euphoria of being bent over Buck’s knee.
Buck’s hand is shovel-heavy, falling against his ass with a resounding crack! God, it hurts so much more than any time Shannon had playfully slapped him in bed. Is probably far harder than whatever Marisol would have been able to dish out if he’d been brave enough to actually ask her for the ruler spanking they’d joked about. Buck is enveloping him, strong thighs underneath Eddie, solid core against his side, and his arm swinging steady and sure. Before long, Eddie’s ass is warm and stinging, his cock so hard he wonders how there is any blood left in his brain.
It doesn’t matter, he supposes, since the only thoughts swirling through his head are filthy fantasies about what Buck might do with him next. What he might want Buck to do to him next. It’s like the whole world has suddenly opened up, and whatever Eddie wants is his for the taking if he just asks. Or goads Buck into, as the case may be.
As it is, he has no desire to move. Buck has him pinned down tight, his cock hard and leaking against Buck’s thick thigh. He’s wearing those dark jeans that are coarse enough to send shivers skittering across Eddie’s skin whenever his bare cock shifts over them, but all those little sparks of pain are doing is riling Eddie up further. He thinks deliriously that he could probably come like this.
There’s a rough noise that follows each spank, and it takes another three for Eddie to recognize it (with mounting horror) as his own voice. At first, they’re moans, but the more Buck works him over, the more they devolve into something like sobs.
The tears start to fall soon after, and Eddie’s so relieved that they just build up faster. He opens his mouth to speak, but it’s so dry that he has to stop, swallow a few times before he tries again, tongue thick. “M’sorry,” he sobs out, voice hoarse. “‘M so sorry, Buck, I didn’t–” smack! “I didn’t mean it.”
“Fucking right you didn’t.” Buck answers, his hand coming down on the backs of Eddie’s thighs for a few rounds. The words are cruel, but Buck’s tone is a little more gentle, like he knows Eddie needs both.
Eddie has completely lost count of how many times Buck has spanked him now, but he can tell that heat is radiating off his ass. The thought of it bright red and covered in Buck’s handprints makes him feel dizzy. He’s so hard, but it seems momentarily distant, the lightness of his chest becoming all he can think about as he cries through the exquisite pleasure-pain of being at Buck’s mercy. “You always take care of us.” Eddie manages, and the admission, the apology, saps the last of Eddie’s anger, leaves only total surrender in its place. And he means it fully. Buck’s devotion is clear in the way that he has given Eddie more than he could ever deserve, not only tonight, but as far back as when he brought Carla into their lives.
There’s a stutter of a pause, and then Buck shifts so his next swat lands lower, right where Eddie’s going to feel it when he tries to sit down tomorrow. He curls over Buck’s lap, arching into the rhythm Buck’s built up. It leaves him scrambling for something to hold on to until his fingers catch on the seam of Buck’s pants, the raised stitching gives him something to focus on, to anchor himself.
Where Buck’s put him now, the friction on his dick is deliciously consistent, more than just a pass every now and again. Instead, he’s shoved against Buck’s warm leg with every punishing spank, cock slipping through the wet spot that’s gathered there from his own precome. He’s going to– fuck, he’s gonna come. “Bu–” he tries to warn, but Buck doesn’t stop for a second. His arm has got to be sore as hell by now, his own palm has probably gone stinging and numb, but he doesn’t let up his assault on Eddie’s ass, and it’s only one, two, three more hard spanks before Eddie can’t hold back anymore.
His orgasm is sudden, slamming through him like a freight train, wet and messy and completely humiliating. It might be the best orgasm he’s ever had. Wave after wave of pleasure keeps him gasping and sobbing and begging Buck “please, please, please,” as if all of this was for Eddie’s pleasure and not to put him in his place. Finally, when the roaring sensations start to ebb, Eddie’s limbs become jello, and he’s floating just slightly outside of his body, head stuffed with cotton.
Buck lets him slide back off his lap when Eddie tries, and he lands on his knees, knowing better than to settle back on his heels and risk contact with his throbbing, inflamed skin. They both stare at the stain on Buck’s pant leg, the evidence that not only did Eddie admit he wanted this, but he also came just from Buck spanking him.
The shock on Buck’s face gives way to something calculating, then something mean. “You made a mess.” He says casually. “Better clean it up, cowboy.” One of his sneakers knocks gently into Eddie’s knee. A reminder that Buck is still completely dressed while Eddie’s own pants are twisted around his knees.
The sardonic twist on the nickname makes something in his guts roil like pleasure, roil like shame. His gaze snaps to Buck’s, unsure if he’s actually serious, if doing that would carry them over some other, worse line than Eddie’s already forced them across tonight. When he hesitates, Buck’s hand finds his jaw, fingers digging into the hinge of it and forcing his mouth open. He uses the grip to pull Eddie a little closer. It’s good honestly, having Buck make the decision for him, not having to weigh the consequences of his actions and just doing what Buck instructs.
“You wanted it so bad you had to pick a fucking fight with me?” He levels Eddie with an unflinching stare. “Lick it up.”
It’s funny. Eddie thought he was well acquainted with shame. But this, the feeling that flares through him at Buck’s words, it twists his insides, turns his blood thick and heavy in his veins. It makes him want. There’s no room for embarrassment or regret.
There’s nobody else he could trust to handle him this way, to know exactly what he needs and to lead him there with a steady hand curved around his cheek. His instinct would be to fight it, but this is Buck, so he goes without a struggle, tongue dipping out to lap at the denim of Buck’s jeans. It leaves his mouth feeling sour and cotton-y, saliva flooding in at the dryness paired with the humiliation. He’s sloppy with it, dampening the material with kitten licks until he can no longer taste his own cum.
“That’s good, Eddie.” When he tunes back into his body and his surroundings, he can hear Buck repeating those words over and over again. The hand that had been on his jaw earlier is now petting at his hair, helping gentle him back into himself. “So good.”
It’s hard to tell exactly how long they sit there like that. Time feels fuzzy and indistinguishable. Buck is still rock hard, bulging out the crotch of his jeans obscenely, but he makes no move to touch himself and he doesn’t ask Eddie to either. It strikes him that Buck might not let him return the favor, and Eddie’s not ready to stop touching him. To stop being touched. “No, please. I– don’t stop, I want–”
Buck hums, clearly not understanding Eddie’s babbling. He places a possessive hand on the back of his neck trying to offer some sort of comfort, but it’s not enough. Eddie needs more. He wants Buck’s cock stuffing him full.
Suddenly, he can’t waste another second. Sure, he’s never done this before, but it’s not rocket science. He’s been on the receiving end, surely he can manage to get Buck off like this. He can be good.
Buck says his name as Eddie’s fingers shakily undo his button and fly, rewarding him with the sight of black boxer briefs, tented out. He’s too feverish, too uncoordinated to do much more than lean in and press his face there, tongue flicking out like it did against the fabric of Buck’s jeans. “Let me,” he begs, using his words like Buck had told him to earlier. He’s prepared to keep begging until Buck says yes, but he doesn’t have to.
“O-okay, Eds, easy.” He guides Eddie back gently, then pulls himself out. Inch after inch of smooth skin over rigid steel, far more than Eddie’s ever dreamed of handling. “Easy,” Buck warns one more time before he lets Eddie loose.
Eager, he drops his jaw, stretching his mouth as wide as possible, trying to take as much of Buck as he can. There’s so very much to take, Buck’s cock is proportional to his massive body, and thick, leaking steadily. It tastes musky, salty, like Eddie’s own cum he’d just cleaned up, but better. Warmer. Nowhere near as thick.
He breathes through his nose, sinking down, down, down, but he barely makes it halfway before he’s gagging. He fights it, unwilling to entertain the idea of not being capable of this.
The thick head of Buck’s cock bumps into sensitive flesh as Eddie forces himself down further. Again. Again. He gags, each time, and eventually tears spring up, spilling past his lashline and dripping down his cheeks. He must look a mess, decidedly unsexy with the last round of tears already drying on his cheeks and these now adding to the mess because he can’t even give Buck a proper thanks.
Buck makes a choked-off noise above him, and Eddie’s so determined to do this right that he doesn’t stop, swallowing desperately, choking down more of Buck’s cock. It makes him gag so hard his throat aches, but he can’t pull off more than the little it takes to suck in some air. If he pushes just a little bit harder, he’ll be able to give Buck what he deserves. The satisfaction of that buzzes beneath his skin.
Saliva drips past Eddie’s lips, running down his neck. He tries to remember everything he’s ever liked about being on the other side of a blowjob, and hopes he’s at least accomplishing some of it despite how bad he seems to be at it. Maybe if Buck just thrust forward, Eddie could hold still for him, let him use him until he feels as good as he’d made Eddie feel earlier.
Desperate, he curls a hand around Buck’s hip, dragging him forward and forcing Buck’s cock into the opening of his throat again. This time, he chokes hard enough that he has to pull off and cough. “Hey, hey,” Buck’s voice cuts through when Eddie finally manages to stop his throat from spasming.
There’s a warm hand on his cheek again, holding Eddie just out of reach. “Stop, stop, Eddie. Shh, it’s okay, relax, don’t hurt yourself.”
Eddie’s not hurting himself, he’s just desperate to do this right. He wants to take Buck as deep as possible.
Tears start to prick at his eyes for a third time tonight, and Eddie can’t even blame a physical reaction this time. “No,” he croaks, trying to spear himself back on Buck’s cock. “No, I need to–”
Buck forces him back, both hands on Eddie’s face now as he swims in Eddie’s watery vision. “Look at me.” He waits until Eddie’s eyes focus, making sure he has his full attention. “Tell me what you need.” The words are so calm and steady, Eddie feels them settle into his bones.
Another sob gets caught in his chest, and he’s never felt so pathetic, so needy, so firmly held. Buck cares so much, and it just makes him all the more desperate. “Need to make you come.”
Buck’s face visibly softens at that. “Could probably come without you even touching me, just from thinking about how desperate you are to be good for me,” his tone is teasing, but Eddie gets the impression he’s actually very serious. “But I can think of something I want even more.”
Eddie’s limbs are only marginally more functional than when Buck liquified them with that life changing orgasm, so it doesn’t take much for him to manhandle Eddie up onto the couch, chest to the backrest and ass out towards the room. The cool air feels good on his sensitive, overheated skin.
“Shirt off,” Buck orders softly, “wanna see you.”
Eddie’s legs tremble with the effort as he leans back enough to pull the thermal off, and he’s grateful that Buck ducks down to help him slide his pants and underwear the rest of the way off. He probably wouldn’t have been able to do that with any amount of grace.
When Buck crawls up behind him, he can feel the rough drag of his pants against that same sore skin. Oh fuck, it hurts. Buck still hasn’t done more than free his cock from his pants and underwear, and the open zipper presses into Eddie’s abused ass in a cold, stinging v. But being completely bare against Buck’s mostly-clothed body, being able to feel Buck’s every breath against him again—
Yeah, this is perfect.
Buck’s hips move experimentally, grinding his spit-covered cock against Eddie’s burning hot skin. He wonders if Buck can feel it, the heat that’s radiating off of him like a furnace, if it feels good against his blood-heavy cock.
“God, Eddie,” he groans, mouthing at the back of his neck. He sounds like he’s having a religious experience, which is exactly the reaction Eddie had been hoping for. He can’t help but spread his knees and arch back, encouraging Buck to rut down against him harder.
Buck is close enough to be a second skin, plastered against Eddie’s back and caging him in. Holding him steady. “Look at you.” He breathes in Eddie’s ear, hand snaking down to curl around Eddie’s cock as it tries valiantly to fill with blood again. “After you got so pissy with me for being a slut. Should I get you a mirror, baby?”
Eddie groans, knowing he had that one coming. The threesome thing was a low blow before, to be fair, and he is the one naked on the couch, being used for Buck’s pleasure and loving every second of it.
Buck chuckles. “No? Okay, I’ll just tell you then.” His lips find the bolt of Eddie’s jaw, pressing a wet, possessive kiss there. “Nothing sluttier than begging your best friend for a spanking and an orgasm.”
If he weren’t feeling so fucked out, Eddie would definitely have a smart remark to that. As it is, his brain feels like it might be leaking out of his ears so he can’t do more than moan and replay Buck’s teasing voice calling him a slut over and over again. He wonders what he’ll have to do to get Buck to say it again.
Buck’s thrusts get more erratic, speeding up and stuttering against Eddie’s body. The shift makes his dick slide between Eddie’s ass cheeks, catching at his rim, and isn’t that another fantastic idea? The thought that Buck could get himself slick and then bully his way inside, really fuck him. Buck gasps with it at the same time Eddie does, the spongy head of his cock gliding back over Eddie’s hole with just this side of too much friction.
“Yeah?” He pants, an incredulous laugh entwined in his harsh breath, “You want it? Want me inside you for real?”
Eddie’s unsurprised that Buck can tell just how badly he wants it, and now that it’s out there—
Buck would stretch him so wide, split Eddie open on his cock and make him see stars. He’d make sure it was good. Would find that sweet spot inside of him and hammer it until he was gasping and writhing and coming.
“Fuck, yes.” The admission is punched out of him by the weight of Buck against his back, the phantom idea of that thick cock rearranging his guts.
“Next time,” Buck promises, leaning down and placing a kiss at the juncture of his shoulder. “But you’ll have to use your words. Ask for it nicely.”
That’s what does it, the promise of more, a next time, and the slick head of Buck’s cock bumping against his hole. Eddie’s done for.
He curls in on himself, face pressed into the back of the couch, spilling hot and thick over Buck’s fist, despite the fact that he hadn’t even realized he was fully hard again. It feels like his orgasm was wrung out of him, like Buck reached down into his core and physically milked the high out of him.
It seems to surprise Buck just as much, a groan on his lips as he grinds in hard against Eddie’s ass, suddenly wild with it. “E-Eddie, Eddie, fuck. So hot, can’t believe you came for me twice, oh god.”
He’s frantic, rutting against Eddie’s body, biting at the exposed skin of his neck. It’s too much against his poor, raw ass. The sounds he’s making would be better suited to that of a wounded animal. Buck seems to understand, taking pity on him as he peels himself away from Eddie’s back and brings the hand covered in Eddie’s cum to wrap around his own cock.
Eddie’s still too out of it to turn around and watch, but he can hear the slick sound of Buck jerking himself off, using his spend to ease the glide. It only takes a few more strokes and then he feels the first hot rope of Buck’s cum landing across his lower back.
“Fuck, Eddie.”
Eddie groans, the euphoria of finally getting Buck there, too giving him just enough energy to feel shivering pleasure through every nerve, every inch of his skin. He feels wrung out in the best possible way. There’s a deep satisfaction settling warmly in his bones, nothing but the sound of Buck’s breathing gentling them both back down to earth.
“Should clean up your mess,” Eddie slurs, remembering the taste of his own cum on the rough fabric of Buck’s pants. He really is so messy, Buck’s cum painted over his ass and dripping down onto his thighs. There’s so much of it. It brings a whole different perspective to the nickname Firehose.
Buck laughs, still breathless as he eases back off the couch. “Why don’t I do you one better?”
For a brief second, he thinks Buck might be about to lick him clean, but then strong hands are tugging at his slack body, steadying him as Buck helps him to his feet and guides him down the hallway. He steers Eddie into the bathroom and leans him against the wall while he reaches into the shower and turns on the water.
They end up under the warm spray together, Buck standing behind Eddie and keeping him upright. Steadily, the bathroom fills with steam while Buck takes a soapy wash cloth to Eddie’s lax body. The fabric is just coarse enough to have him hissing when it passes over his well-spanked ass. Buck murmurs soft apologies, working him over until he’s all pink and clean.
Now, with a slightly clearer head, Eddie knows there’s some apologizing he needs to do. They should have talked about– well, everything. Eddie leaving. Eddie coming home and finally bringing Chris back, only for Buck to move out at the speed of light. The weird tension that’s been brewing between them ever since the whole mess with Kim started. The strain that only worsened as Buck insisted Eddie should start dating again (and then managed to be the only one of the two of them actually seeing someone new), and the way they both forced themselves to pretend that nothing had changed.
That part is on both of them, but the things Eddie said tonight? It doesn’t matter that he didn’t mean them. He shouldn’t have tried to make Buck feel bad about the couple, and he never should have said that it had anything to do with them taking care of Hen.
Still, Buck touches him like Eddie is something precious, drying them both off with the towel from the hook that he knows belongs to Eddie. The casual domesticity of it makes Eddie remember, however briefly, that even when it feels like it’s been forever since Buck’s been here with them, they’re still a family. If there were anything left in Eddie’s body after tonight, the thought might wring a few more tears from him. For better or worse, he barely has the strength to stay upright while Buck rifles through the drawers, pulling out a pair of clean shorts and a t-shirt for Eddie, and a pair of his own sweats he still leaves here for safekeeping.
As Buck pulls back the comforter and tucks Eddie in on his side (careful of his sore, tender flesh) he just feels raw—from the ache of his skin, to his throat, even down deep in his chest where he’d let himself start to ask for some of the things he so desperately wants. He’s so relieved that Buck isn’t trying to leave again. Hasn’t made a move to do anything but stay right by Eddie’s side. Still, he’s greedy, and as Buck shuts off the light and climbs in across from him, there’s one more thing he needs.
“Buck,” his cracking voice breaks through the silence that has settled between them. Buck lays beside him, close enough to share warmth, but not actually touching him despite all the ways he already has tonight.
Buck makes a hum of acknowledgement, seemingly waiting with baited breath.
“Can I ask for one more thing?” He thinks Buck would be well within his right to say no, but even in the darkness he can see the way Buck just smiles.
“Always.”
“Will you kiss me?”
Buck doesn’t say anything, but the bed shifts and from one moment to the next, he’s closing the distance between them. That warm hand is back on his cheek, slipping further to curl fingers around the nape of Eddie’s neck and pull him in. Maybe Eddie was wrong, maybe this was the thing he was really angling for all along– even if he couldn’t deny he enjoyed every second of what they did instead.
Eddie’s lips are a little dry– all the uncontrollable noises he’d been making all night catching up with him– but he’s feeling no pain as Buck’s mouth moves against his. It’s not chaste, but it’s not dirty either. No, this is somewhere in the middle, somewhere passionate and loving and hot, drawing Eddie in and letting him make a home in Buck’s body.
It’s a little late to realize that they’ve been making their home together for a long time now, but Eddie’s made stupider mistakes, and as Buck holds him close, like he’s something worthy, he thinks maybe now they both finally understand.
“Buck,” he breathes the words against his mouth, ready to apologize and plead. “I’m so—“ he starts, but Buck gives a gentle shake of his head, as he presses kisses across Eddie’s cheek and up to his temple.
“Shh,” he urges gently, curling his body carefully around Eddie’s. “Tomorrow.”