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sidekick-hero · 2 years ago

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hold me close (I’m shaking apart)

(steddie / explicit / part 1 / 6k / AO3 Link at the bottom)

Inspired by this amazing, mind-blowing piece of fanart by @dreaminginpencil (please give the artist and art some love)

Your perspective on a lot of things changes when you save the world and almost die in the process. Like how important high school hierarchies are, or what kind of people you want to spend your time with.

Eddie, for example, never thought he would be hanging out with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, or even Robin Buckley, even though she was as much of a social misfit as he was. Not to mention the bunch of fifteen-year-olds, although, to be fair, he had hung out with some of them back in Hellfire. Not that there was anything wrong with those people, far from it. But without the Upside Down, he probably never would have known.

The whole experience taught him a lot, too. Mostly not to judge a book by its cover, a lesson Eddie thought he'd learned a long time ago. In fact, he had prided himself on applying it to his ways in high school, adopting little lost sheep who did not fit in with the crowd.

Apparently, he had been wrong.

Because he also ended up spending more and more time with the former King of Hawkins High himself and that was a book he would have wrinkled his nose at before but found himself addicted to now.

But Eddie was not the only one who had come back from his brush with another dimension, a hellish dimension, a changed man. No one goes through the things they’ve been through unscathed. Eddie was no expert in those matters, but he had the impression that more than anyone else, Steve was the one who had embraced the change that brought the most. It seemed to Eddie like Steve was almost thankful to have left the days of 'King Steve' behind. For one thing, the guy seemed more at ease, more relaxed, than Eddie had ever seen him at school. Steve had stopped holding himself so rigidly all the time, no longer coiled up like a snake ready to strike. Instead, he was goofing off with Dustin or bickering with Robin, acting like a total dork without regard to his reputation.

Eddie knew Steve still regretted a lot of the things he'd done, a truth spilled from Steve’s mouth in the hours between midnight and dawn, but Steve had begun to make peace with his past mistakes.

Leaving 'King Steve' behind also meant that Steve had stopped caring about high school etiquette and social ladders, just like Eddie had. Steve didn't seem to have any problems calling a band geek his platonic soul mate or hanging out with 15-year-olds on a regular basis.

Of all the unlikely friendships Eddie had formed during the literal apocalypse, the one with Steve felt the most unlikely. Hawkins High's freak and king. But those titles had stopped meaning anything, they were just names and had nothing to do with him or with Steve.

It all came down to one simple truth: Steve Harrington was not at all what Eddie expected him to be, and it was confusing him to no end.

Spending time with Steve made Eddie feel unsteady, something he wasn't used to.

Thing is, Eddie’s not blind. He knows what Steve looks like. Even back in high school there had been an awareness of Steve and the way he moved and talked and commanded a room just by walking into it. Eddie had been denying it, of course, willing to believe it was contempt, disdain he felt for the guy, and that was why his eyes would find Steve in any room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Although at night, in his dreams, he knew the truth.

Back then it hadn't really been a problem. They existed in different social circles, Steve on top and Eddie on the bottom of the ladder. Steve probably hadn't even been aware of Eddie's existence, and that had been fine with him. It had made it easier to ignore the heat that pooled in his stomach when he had to watch Steve in his little gym shorts throwing balls into laundry baskets, or to forget the dreams he woke up from, all sticky and embarrassed.

Their newfound friendship makes dealing with his whatever better and worse. Better, because now that he got to know Steve, the real Steve and not the bastardized version he knew from high school, he realizes what a great guy he is. Steve’s funny without meaning to be, goofy in a way that's endearing and silly at the same time. He could be a bit of a bitch, but when it isn't meant to hurt, it is actually pretty funny to watch him being a petty mean girl.

Steve Harrington also has a depth to him that Eddie didn't expect at all. Isn't it enough that the guy is gorgeous and athletic and charming? No, he has to be sincere and caring as well. That's where things started to get worse for Eddie. Because lusting after Steve Harrington? Old news. Expected, really — how could Eddie be better than at least half the population of Hawkins his age?

It's the feelings underneath the lust that are dangerous, that could get him into trouble.

Steve doesn't help his situation at all, of course. Instead of being aloof and prickly or arrogant, he has to be sweet to Eddie. Seeks him out to ask his opinion on things, like he really cares what Eddie thinks. Asks him to spend time with him, to come over, to watch a movie or just go for a ride to get out of this shitshow of a town. Laughs at Eddie's jokes and listens to his stories, asking questions and looking at him with big, warm eyes.

When they're in the same room, Steve keeps moving closer and closer to him, invading his space as if trying to carve out his own little corner in it. He keeps touching Eddie, brushing against him, breathing against his skin when he leans over his shoulder or whispers in his ear, and Eddie knows it doesn't mean anything, feels bad about the way all these innocent touches make heat build in his stomach, how they make his balls draw tight and his skin feel too small for his body. He doesn't want to feel that way, wants to be normal for once, because Steve is his friend and it feels dirtybadwrong to look at him and think about all the things he wants to do to him.

Like when they celebrated Robin's birthday last month, and everyone had gathered at Steve's big empty house to party. There had been an assortment of drinks, more than a house full of 15-year-olds probably needed, because the only guests of (almost) legal drinking age were Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Steve and himself. Eddie had found himself standing in front of the various bottles, marveling at the sheer potential for alcohol poisoning, when Steve came up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

"Are you expecting a whole fraternity to show up or are you trying to get us all pissed?"

Steve was humming behind him, so close that Eddie could have sworn he could feel the vibration through his back. Eddie was acutely aware of the heat Steve was giving off, goosebumps breaking out all over his body as the electricity of Steve's closeness continued to crackle under his skin. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to stay upright at that point, how he hadn't let out the whimper rising in his throat.

So of course Steve went ahead and made it worse.

He took another step forward and pressed his front fully against Eddie's back, trapping Eddie between the counter and his solid body. He inhaled sharply as he felt the heat through his thin shirt and was hit with Steve's intoxicating scent; musky from the sweat glistening on his flushed skin, mixed with the expensive cologne Steve always wore and the beer he had earlier. Underneath it all was something pure Steve. Eddie's head was spinning from the way Steve was overwhelming his senses.

And then Steve put his mouth right next to Eddie's ear and whispered, "Maybe I just want you to loosen up a little. You seem super tense, dude." Steve's hot breath had hit the sensitive skin of his ear and Eddie couldn't help the shiver that ran through him nor the strangled sound escaping his mouth. He shuffled forward to press himself up against the counter to hide the growing evidence of what Steve was doing to him, and poured himself a drink.

Fuck that shit, he needed it.

A few days later, Steve, Robin and Eddie had gotten together after Robin and Steve's shifts at the Family Video Store to go to the local diner for fries and milkshakes, as they often did. Nothing fancy, just friends hanging out.

Everything had started out pretty normal too, relaxed and easy, joking around, Robin and Steve bickering like an old married couple and Eddie adding fuel to all their playful arguments. They all shared a huge order of fries, but each ordered their own milkshake. Robin chose strawberry, Eddie chose chocolate, and Steve chose vanilla. This, of course, made Eddie grin mischievously at Steve.

"I'm trying so hard not to make a joke right now, Harrington. I hope you appreciate the effort."

All Eddie got for his trouble was a puzzled blink from Steve's hazel eyes. For someone with Steve's reputation, he was surprisingly bad at picking up on innuendo. Eddie was embarrassed at how damn endearing he found it.

Just as Eddie decided it was a lost cause, Steve suddenly leaned forward from where he was sitting across from Eddie, right into his space. Eddie wanted to back away, but was glued to the spot by the intense look in Steve's eyes as his hand came up and moved toward Eddie's face in what seemed like slow motion. Eddie marveled at how big it looked, as if it could easily cradle his entire face in its palm. Of course it didn't. Cradle it, that was. It did, however, touch his face, soft as a butterfly's wing.

Eddie had to squint to see what it was doing so close to his face, but it was gone in an instant, leaving Eddie wondering if he was dreaming the sensation of warm, dry skin touching his cheek just below his left eye.

When he looked back up, Steve was holding up his index finger to him, still leaning in close and looking straight into his eyes with a smile that crinkled their corners. "Make a wish."

There were so many things Eddie could have wished for. A new amp for his sweetheart, a raise at his job at the music store, hell, even world peace. But Eddie is a weak, weak man. And so he wished for something he could never have and felt bad at the sight of Steve's devastating smile as he blew away the eyelash.

It was killing Eddie, and Steve just kept doing shit like that. The more Eddie tried to stay away, to put space between them to protect his fragile heart, the more Steve seemed to seek him out. It was the sweetest kind of torture Eddie had ever felt, and he was sure he was going to lose his fucking mind over it, and soon.

It was not enough to keep him away for good, though.

Like just a few days ago when they had all been over to use Steve's pool and the promise of a nice dip was too much for Eddie to resist. Or so he kept telling himself.

The hot mid-summer sun was beating down on him as he found himself face to face with a group of roughhousing teenagers in the pool. Eddie had no desire to join them while they were still acting like the half-wild gremlins they really were, so he decided to stay by the side of the pool, sprawled out on a towel as small drops of water kept hitting his heated skin and a light breeze caressed him.

He still had his jeans on, but his upper body was bare. It was not easy for him to show off his scarred body like that, he was still self-conscious about the damage he had suffered from being almost torn to shreds by the Demobats, but these were his friends and if he was ever going to reclaim his own body and feel comfortable in his own skin, he had to start somewhere.

However, it was not part of his plan to let anyone touch his body just yet. Even Eddie could hardly bring himself to do it most days, too weirded out by the numbness of some of his scars, too afraid of the pain of touching others. So when Steve approached him with a bottle of sunscreen, he sat up abruptly and tried to get away as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to himself.

Steve was having none of it.

"Don’t even think about it, Eddie, you look like a lobster. You need to put on some sunscreen before you blister, man."

Fucker was fast, too because before Eddie could even think about reaching for his shirt, muttering about putting it back on, maybe going inside, Steve slid in behind him, his legs bracketing Eddie's and his front to Eddie's back.

So Eddie found himself once again trapped by the most beautiful Venus flytrap and there was no escaping its sweet but deadly embrace.

"Let me give you a hand."

There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say with all the words stuck in his throat, so Eddie just... took it. Just let Steve do whatever the hell he wanted to him. The only thing Eddie did was pray to the heavens to send him the strength he needed to not crumble under Steve's capable hands as they began to spread the cool lotion over the too-hot skin of his back. He shivered at the difference in temperature, his back arching under Steve's hands as he couldn't decide if he wanted them closer or if he wanted to get away from them, unable to stop a small, embarrassing sound from escaping his lips. It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

Steve's hands worked methodically, in broad strokes that once again reminded Eddie how big Steve's hands were, spanning his entire shoulder blade, the thumbs digging in here in there in an almost massage. Steve kept his touch gentle but sure. He didn't linger, exactly, but he wasn't in a hurry either, taking his took his time, making sure to touch every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Eddie could swear Steve's fingerprints were burned into his skin like a brand and he was glad Steve couldn't see his face, couldn't see the way he kept biting his lips to stifle the moans that clawed their way up his throat, or the way his eyes were pressed together so tightly he could see stars. It felt like Steve’s touch lasted forever, time a useless construct that bent to Steve's will like everything else.

It was over much too quickly.

Eddie mourned the loss of those hands on his skin the moment they were gone as Steve pulled them away, wiping his hands on the towel and standing up, handing Eddie the bottle of sunscreen. "For your front. Let me know if you need me, 'kay?" And then he had the audacity to wink at Eddie.

Eddie looked up at him, blinded by the way the sun lit Steve from behind, hitting his mousy brown hair at an angle that made it look like golden whiskey, his skin sun-kissed and freckled. All those moles splattered all over his body in stark contrast to the caramel color of his skin, inviting Eddie to put his mouth all over them, to worship each and every one of them until he could identify them by the feel against his lips and tongue.

Steve had smiled down at him, happy and carefree, and Eddie thought he'd let himself be torn apart by bats any day if it meant being worthy of a look like that.

What he’s trying to say with all of this: He’s so fucked.

But it's fine. Eddie's fine. He really is.

It's fine that his mind keeps losing track of things when he's around Steve, that he keeps spacing out while staring at his lips or the moles on his neck or those goddamn paws Steve calls hands. It's fine that his dreams lately all seem to involve sweeping brown hair and hazel eyes, and that he wakes up from most of them horny and desperately rutting in his mattress. He's a healthy 21-year-old whose only company lately has been his right hand. A stiff breeze could set him off.

He blames that for giving in so easily.

It's early August, and the heat has grown oppressive, stifling. It's unbearable outside, and even in Steve's room, with all the shades drawn and the air conditioning on, it's barely tolerable. But the trailer is so much worse, so Eddie spends most of his days at Steve's.

Which is fine. He's fine.

He's fine when Steve takes off his jeans after a lot of complaining about them sticking to his thighs, and just wears his boxers and one of those stupid polo shirts he's so fond of, showing off his strong, hairy thighs.

Being fine gets harder (pun intended, Eddie thinks) when Steve doesn't sit back down at the foot of the bed, where he had started before his impromptu striptease, but right next to Eddie, his back to the headboard.

They're sitting close together, shoulder to shoulder, thighs almost touching and Eddie can feel the heat of Steve's leg even through his jeans. It makes very aware of his own layers; a long-sleeved Hellfire shirt and ripped jeans. After the sunscreen incident (as he calls it in his head) he couldn't stand the thought of his bare skin anywhere near Steve.

Steve does not seem to have any such reservations. As he settles more comfortably on the bed, his bare forearm presses against Eddie's clothed one, just a thoughtless, careless touch, but Eddie's heart stutters at the contact, missing several beats. It tries to make up for it with rapid thundering. This awareness of Steve has been growing steadily, building and building, for weeks and Eddie feels it's about to reach its crescendo. The air around them seems to crackle with energy, causing the leg resting next to Steve's to bounce.

The heavy weight of Steve's hand as it comes to rest on his thigh to stop his restless movement almost makes him jump, his muscles tense from the effort to hold still when all he wants to do is vibrate right out of his skin. The heat of Steve's palm sears his skin even through the layer of clothing between them and Eddie feels as if it will forever be marked by Steve Harrington. Thinks he wouldn't mind wearing some visible proof of it, something that said 'Property of Steve', like wearing his letterman jacket or his class ring. Eddie thought he left those silly dreams behind a long time ago, but teenage dreams die harder than you think.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" Steve asks with a hint of worry in his voice, his eyes serious as they look at Eddie, as if he's trying to say You can tell me and I want to make it better. But Eddie can't and Steve won't.

But it's fine, he can be fine.

"Nah, all good. Sorry. The heat's getting to me, making me a little crazy, I guess."

"Might be you’re wearing so many fucking layers, dude.” He says it teasingly, tongue-in-cheek and Eddie forces a chuckle, hopes Steve will drop it if he makes a joke out of it.

He must not be very convincing because Steve just keeps looking at him and Eddie can hardly stand it, this all-consuming focus on him. Not because it's too much, but because now that he has it, he knows he'll crave it even more. He already wants Steve's eyes on him all the time, wants to be the center of Steve's attention as much as Steve is his; the axis around which his days revolve.

Eddie has always been greedy.

"You ever fooled around with another guy?"

Steve's words are like a bucket of cold water poured over his head, like the needle jumping on the record and making that scratchy sound. Has he ever…What the fuck, Harrington?

Eddie’s frozen in shock, breath caught and heart no longer beating, suspended in the air and afraid of the drop. Finds himself at a loss for words, something that doesn't happen very often in his life, thinks that he must be dreaming, one of those dreams where he's going to have to change his sheets again.

"Have I ever - " He swallows, but it goes down the wrong pipe and he coughs instead, has to lean forward with his fist to his mouth, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Steve tries to help and puts a hand on his back, rubbing it in soothing circles as if he hadn't just dropped a fucking bomb in Eddie's lap. You ever fooled around with another guy?

When the coughing subsides, he takes a shuddering breath, hoping Steve will drop the subject, move on as if Eddie won't lie awake tonight repeating those words over and over again in his head.

He should have known better by now — Steve Harrington isn't one to let things go.

"So have you? You can tell me, I won't tell anyone, promise."

Jesus Christ.

"Can't say I have, Stevie.” Eddie tells him the truth, but keeps to himself how much he wishes he had. “What about you? Those communal showers after basketball practice ever get," he pauses for effect, "steamy?"

There's a fine dusting of red on Steve's cheeks and his eyes have gotten bigger, glassy. He bites his lip, and Eddie's eyes immediately fall to them, mouth watering as he thinks about replacing Steve’s teeth with his own.

"No, we— I didn't— But." Another pause, another bite, as Steve's eyes drop to Eddie's mouth as well. Eddie licks over them compulsively and sees Steve's eyes follow the movement with eyes that are more black than hazel.

"But?" He almost whispers, too afraid to startle Steve and break whatever spell he's under.

"But I always wondered. How it would feel. If it's as good. Better." His breathing speeds up and Eddie matches it, feeling as if he's already been around the football field a few times.

That tension keeps on building, and Eddie has no idea what will happen when it reaches its breaking point.

If he even wants to find out.

If he can take any more.

If he'll survive whatever comes next.

But Eddie has already proven that his survival instincts are all fucked up, so instead of backing off, instead of ending the madness here once and for all, Eddie jumps right in.

"Why didn't you try it? Don't tell me King Steve couldn't have pulled a hot piece of ass if he wanted to."

He’s playing with fire, he knows that, but no one could have prepared him for the smoldering heat in Steve's eyes as he looks up at Eddie. "Maybe. If I'd asked, Tommy would have, I think. I didn't though." His hand reaches across their bodies and slides up Eddie's arm, settling on his shoulder as if it belonged there. "But I'm asking now."

Eddie's stomach clenches with how much he wants this, wants it so bad he can taste it on his tongue, his skin tingling at the mere thought of getting his hands on Steve's skin. But he has to be sure, he has to know. "What are you asking?”

"I'm asking if you want to experiment. See what it's like."

"You want to —" And here he thought Steve would want to — stupid. Eddie is so stupid.

"Experiment, man, it doesn't have to mean anything, right?"

Right. It doesn't have to mean anything. He can have the former King of Hawkins High in his bed, gets to have Steve in his bed, and it won't mean anything. Can't mean anything.

There’s never even been a question what Eddie’s answer would be.

It'll be fine. Eddie can be fine with this.

"Okay, man. Yeah. Whatever. We can, y'know, experiment. What do you want to do?"

A long breath leaves Steve in something close to a sigh, as if he had been nervous, holding his breath in anticipation of Eddie's reaction. As if Eddie's answer meant something to him. As if Eddie would ever be able to say anything to him but yes.

It's probably just horniness, Eddie thinks. He knows Steve hasn't had a date in months, hasn't slept with anyone since before the whole Vecna and Apocalypse thing happened. He knows this because Steve told him, unprompted, unwanted, but listening with bated breath. Eddie was a glutton for punishment because he never stopped Steve from talking about the girls he dated, the kisses and the sex he missed, but apparently not enough to go out and get it. He's probably just tired of his own right hand.

Steve leans forward, using the hand still on Eddie's thigh for leverage while the hand on Eddie’s shoulder pulls him in before it slides up to Eddie’s neck. His mouth is inches from Eddie's as he whispers, "Touch me, Eddie.” before pressing them against Eddie’s.

It's everything he's dreamed of, everything he's wanted since Steve Harrington stumbled into his life and turned it upside down. Well, more upside down. But it's also too much, overwhelming in its suddenness, so he finds himself frozen like a deer in the headlights, not even pressing back, just staring at the beautiful boy in front of him like he's having an out of body experience. This was not supposed to happen, not outside of his dreams.

Steve whines against his unresponsive lips and bites the plush shape of his lower lip. "Eddie, please. Touch me."

It’s the please, sounding almost broken as it falls out of Steve’s mough, that breaks the spell like some kind of counter-curse. Eddie lurches forward and catches Steve's lips in a clumsy kiss. It's not like he really knows what he's doing, because while he's never made out with another guy, he's never made out with a girl either. It's not exactly his first kiss, but close enough. It's certainly the first one that means something, the first one he cares about making good.

Steve doesn't seem to care, only pressing harder against Eddie, sliding his tongue across Eddie's lips and grinning at the startled gasp that falls from Eddie's mouth. Steve takes the opportunity to deepen their kiss and Eddie can't help but moan at the wet heat of Steve's tongue sliding past his parted lips and into his mouth. The sensation is foreign, but so damn good. His hand finds its way to the back of Steve's neck, sliding up his nape and grasping the fine hair there. Tugging on it purely on instinct, earning himself a broken whimper.

Touch me, Eddie.

Your wish is my command, Eddie thinks as his other hand pushes up Steve's shirt and finds the thick patch of chest hair that keeps taunting him from the neckline of Steve’s goddamn polo shirt. It's maddening to have it right in front of him every day and not be able to bury his face in it like he wants to. He still doesn't dare, but he lets his nails scratch at the skin underneath and his fingers play with the coarse hair as they begin to wander and explore Steve's chest.

It's hard to keep track of things when Steve keeps kissing him like he's trying to take Eddie apart with just his mouth. He's currently luring Eddie's tongue into his own mouth, sucking on it like he's starving and Eddie's tongue is the only thing that can save him. It's a fuckin' distraction, but it's also the best thing he’s ever felt, has him already so hard it hurts where his dick presses against the stiff material of his jeans.

He shouldn't have gone commando, but it's laundry day.

In school, he's always had trouble prioritizing things. Everything was equally important — band practice, Hellfire, and technically schoolwork. It's the same here. He wants to focus on kissing Steve silly, but he also really, really wants to find out how much skin he can get away with touching before Steve ends their little experiment.

It's the thought that this might be his only chance to find out how Steve feels under his hands that decides it. He slows his own kisses, letting Steve take over for now, while he continues to wander his fingers, letting them find Steve's nipple and give it an experimental stroke with his thumb. It pebbles underneath, a hard bundle of nerves begging to be played with.

His heavy lidded eyes lift to Steve's face to gauge his reaction, and finding Steve biting his lower lip, pupils dilated and eyelids at half-mast, Eddie takes that as a good sign.

So he does it again, harder. Hears Steve's breathing quicken, so he licks his thumb and adds some spit to make the glide easier. And that? That elicits a throaty moan from Steve, a sound he's never heard before, and it goes straight to his dick. If he's not careful, this will be over embarrassingly fast.

Eddie has always been a curious guy. He likes to just try shit out and see what happens. It's an approach that seems to extend to the bedroom because he has no idea what he's doing here, but that doesn't stop him — if anything, it makes him bolder, more daring. Hungrier.

He's fascinated by how sensitive Steve's nipples seem to be, how responsive Steve is to having them played with, so he pinches one of them between his thumb and forefinger next, and the result will be featured in so many wet dreams to come. Steve arches his back as if he's being electrocuted, choking out a broken moan so needy and raw that it makes Eddie squeeze his legs together in a desperate attempt to stave off his own orgasm.

"You're a wet dream, Harrington, moaning like a fucking whore for it. Anyone ever tell you that?" Eddie can't help but ask, his mouth running away from him as it tends to do. All that blood rushing south from his brain makes him stupid.

How did he ever get so lucky? If this is his reward for being willing to sacrifice himself to save the world, he feels like he's being royally rewarded. Another pun fully intended.

"Shut up, fuck, just shut up." Steve says, begs really, no heat behind his words. He almost sounds — desperately turned on by Eddie’s words. Huh. Eddie squirrels the thought away for later, when he can dissect it in peace while touching himself to the memory of Steve's sounds.

They both stop kissing, at least for now, so Eddie leans his forehead against Steve's and they both watch as Eddie's hand moves down, inch by agonizing inch, following the inviting trail of dark hair that runs from Steve's chest to where it disappears under the waistband of his boxers. As if a flimsy barrier of cotton could keep Eddie from where he so desperately wants to go.

Dipping his fingers under the material, he's delighted to find more coarse hair and the leaky head of Steve's cock, straining against its confines. The second his ring finger touches the hot flesh, it jerks and Eddie licks his lips in anticipation, transfixed by the sight through the almost see-through, soaked material covering the tip of Steve's dick.

The movement of Eddie's tongue seems to jolt Steve out of his own reverie, his eyes tearing away from Eddie's hand as he moves back in to capture Eddie's lips once more in a searing kiss, this one slower, deeper. Eddie would be lying if he said he has never thought about what King Steve is like in bed, what turns him on, what he likes to do to his partners. He doesn't know about King Steve, but this Steve? This Steve loves to kiss. It honestly surprises Eddie, in the best way possible.

Eddie's hand dips further, pushing away the offensive material and freeing Steve's cock. He wishes he could see it, see his hand grasp the shaft and slide along the silky smooth skin, but his current position doesn’t allow for it and he can’t bring himself to part with Steve’s lips, not even for this. Maybe it's better that he can't. It keeps him from overthinking it — this way it's almost like jerking off, only with a bigger dick, because goddamn, all those rumors about King Steve's royal rod? Absolutely true.

But he can't get a good rhythm. It's too dry, making the slide bumpy and uncomfortable. Steve seems to agree, because his hand leaves Eddie's neck to reach behind him, rummaging blindly through his bedside table drawer while still kissing Eddie, pulling him along with the magnetism of his eager mouth until he finds what he's looking for.

A bottle of lube.

Steve opens the cap with one hand while the other is still on Eddie's thigh, where it has moved higher, gently stroking along the inseam of his jeans. It has already wandered dangerously close to the hard outline of Eddie's dick, and Eddie knows that once it reaches its target, the game is over. Game, set and match.

That's why he moves to tuck Steve's boxers under his balls and reaches for some lube with his other hand. Eddie doesn't want to hurry, wants to draw this out as long as Steve will allow Eddie to touch him. But even more than that, he wants Steve to come first, to hide from Steve how hot and bothered Steve's own pleasure is making Eddie. He can't let Steve know how the breathy little moans and whimpers, the ragged breathing against his spit-slicked lips, are enough to drive Eddie crazy and make him come untouched any minute now.

Thank God they're on the same page here. Steve squirts some lube on Eddie's outstretched palm and he reaches for Steve's hard dick again, spreading the lube over it, enjoying the smooth glide, the wet squelching sounds as his hand picks up speed. They've stopped kissing to deal with the lube issue, but now that it's done, Steve finds his lips once more and they continue to lick into each other's mouths as Eddie strokes Steve in earnest. His mouth has begun to ache in the best way, as has his wrist.

He welcomes the pain as proof that this is really happening.

"Eddie." His name falls from Steve's lips in a tone that comes straight from Eddie's wettest dreams. Needy. Breathless. In awe of how Eddie makes him feel, and it goes to Eddie's head. Goes to his dick, too, makes his balls tighten. "Eddie, I'm close. I'm so close."

"It's okay, Steve, you can come. It's fine." It isn't. It will be over after that. The end of their experiment. But that's what they agreed to. It's Eddie's own goddamn fault if he's not fine.

"Nuh-uh." Steve starts to shake his head, and it spreads to the rest of his body, which starts to tremble with his efforts to hold himself back. He almost looks in pain and Eddie can’t have that, only ever wants Steve to feel good.

"What do you need, what is it, tell me. Let me give it to you." Too much, he thinks. You always give too much, Eddie.

But Steve had carried him out of hell, literally out of hell. He would give Steve everything. Everything, and it still wouldn't be enough.

"I need you to come too, Eddie. Come on. Want to feel it." And his treacherous hand finally reaches for Eddie's aching dick where it strains against his jeans to eagerly meet Steve's hand. "Please, Eddie. Together." Steve presses the heel of his hand against the hot flesh, rubbing up and down exactly twice before Eddie comes in his fucking pants like the virgin he is.

He whines deep in his throat, then grunts. The sound shouldn't be sexy, but it's what pushes Steve over the edge, spurts of cum landing on his belly and getting caught in his treasure trail. Good thing I pulled up his shirt, Eddie thinks to himself as he keeps pumping Steve's dick, milking the release from it, unable to stop touching Steve. Steve whines when it gets to be too much, nerve endings too sensitive for any kind of touch, so Eddie lets him go, even if he doesn’t want to.

Exhausted, Steve's head comes to rest in the crook of Eddie's neck as he tries to catch his breath. His breath tickles him and cools his overheated skin even more quickly.

Eddie has come all over his hands and, lacking anything to wipe them with, wipes them on Steve's sheets. It's a testament to how out of it Steve is that he doesn't even bitch at Eddie about it, just continues to huff against his skin.

Steve's ragged breathing slows after a minute or two, but his head stays where it is on Eddie's shoulder, Steve's nose pressed against the sweaty skin between Eddie's neck and collarbone. Eddie has never felt closer to another person in his entire life and it terrifies him.

"So. Are you satisfied with our experiment? Did you sate your curiosity?" Eddie is a masochist, it seems, presenting his stomach and inviting Steve to stick the blade where it hurts.

Steve sighs, contented.

"Yeah, man, that was good. Still a few questions though." His speech is slurred and Eddie suspects that Steve is one of those guys who is too out of it after an orgasm to do much else but sleep.

He's proven right when he feels Steve's body sagging against his and little snuffling sounds coming from Steve. He's fallen asleep, leaving Eddie to freak out in peace.

How considerate.

Also on AO3.

My undying thanks and love to my partners in crime, @yournowheregirl and @legitcookie for cheering me on and being the absolute joys that they are 💜

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #nsft #there are two more parts planned but this can stand alone just fine #thank you Jen and Alice for polishing those dicks with me lol #I don't even know how to write without you anymore #💜💜💜

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