Chapter Text
Steve pulls into an empty parking space along the street, the silence stretching around him as he turns off the car. The brick building in front is short and assuming, only a single metal door and two blacked-out windows visible. There isn’t even a sign, just a little white security camera tucked into the corner above the door. It’s the kind of place that eyes are meant to slide over unless they know what’s inside.
Steve doesn’t know, not really. He’s heard the rumors of the Hellfire Club, everything from that’s where the freaks go to get their rocks off to cults use it at night for their satanic rituals. He’s pretty sure only the former has truth to it.
And after his messy divorce and too many disastrous attempts to get back on the horse as Robin calls it, all he wants is a little release. He’s definitely not going to find it out here.
Steve climbs out of the car and resolutely doesn’t think about what he’s doing as he makes it over the curb and to what he assumes is the front door. He knocks twice, the metal making a hollow banging sound.
“Password?” a mechanical voice calls.
Steve tries and fails not to roll his eyes. “Mordor.”
The door creaks a bit as it swings inward. Steve takes a deep breath and steps inside. The breath promptly leaves him again when he sees the man waiting for him.
He’s thin and wiry, body outlined by too-tight leather pants, a leather vest, and no shirt. The thick soles of his combat boots give him a couple of extra inches on Steve. His brown curly hair hangs just past his shoulders and his dark eyes pop with eyeliner as he meets Steve’s gaze. He twirls a riding crop between ring-covered fingers.
“You must be Steve Harrington,” the man says, tilting his head as he takes Steve in without the barest shred of subtlety.
“That’s—” Steve rushes to pull himself together and get back on track. It’s been years since he’s been torn to pieces by a pretty face and he isn’t going back to that now. “Yes, I am.”
The man points at his chest. Steve’s gaze catches on the rings: a cross surrounded by skulls, a pig’s head, and another skull with vampire fangs. “Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master here at the Hellfire Club.”
“Ah—” Steve finds that he doesn’t quite know what to say to that. This is all starting to feel like a terrible mistake. He drags his eyes away from Eddie in favor of the rest of the room.
It’s smaller than it feels like it should be, made even more compact by the gauzy black curtains obscuring the back wall, and very sparsely furnished. It feels almost like a waiting room, except for the black walls, two white leather chairs, and complete lack of magazines. Nothing at all like he would’ve expected for the infamous Hellfire Club.
“Tell me, Mr. Harrington, what brings you here today?” Eddie’s voice is professional, casual, like they’re not standing in a BDSM club and Eddie isn’t covered by a few scraps of leather.
“I’m tired.” Steve pauses, wondering if it’s too late to walk back out the door and see if Robin has any other ideas for blind dates. “I’m tired of always being the one…”
Eddie’s smile is edged sharp as a razor blade. “You’re tired of always being in control. You want someone else to be in charge this time.”
“Exactly,” Steve says, because it’s true but also because I haven’t had sex in a year and my hand just isn’t cutting it anymore feels like a dickish thing to say.
“I’m sure we can find someone who suits your needs.” Eddie looks Steve up and down again, and he feels startlingly both under- and over-dressed. Eddie steps closer and his vest slips open to reveal a ring pierced through one of his nipples. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine. “Are you hoping to attend a mixer or would you like us to try to find you a match?”
“Match,” Steve says, almost too quickly. The idea of having to go to another party to try to meet someone makes his skin crawl. “If I had luck at mixers, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
Eddie blinks at that but he’s kind enough not to comment on it. “Gender preference?”
“I’m bisexual, so any.” The words drop more easily from his lips than he expects. It’s a truth that he’s only recently admitted to himself, but if he’s going to be here than he might as well not hold back. Isn’t that the whole point of these places?
Eddie’s lips twitch as he grabs a handle seemingly set into the wall and pulls open a hidden filing cabinet. He drags out a whole stack of paper and offers it to Steve. “Before we get into it, I just have a few things for you to sign.”
Steve barely bites back a groan. “Paperwork?”
“I know, basic safety, how boring. It’s for our good and yours. Better to know in advance if you have any physical limitations, allergies, hard limits.”
Steve takes the stack and doesn’t whine again. “Should I take it home and fill it out or…”
Eddie smiles, wider this time, and Steve has the unpleasant sensation he’s being laughed at. “If you like, or I can offer you a pen and you can do it here.”
“Here’s—here’s fine.” Steve really isn’t sure he’ll have the guts to walk back up to that door again.
Eddie hands him a perfectly normal ballpoint pen from a mug shaped like a twisted black helmet. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be over here if you have any questions.”
“Thank…you.” Steve bends over the paperwork and tries not to think too much about what he’s doing. There isn’t anything too surprising: confidentiality, reminders about consent, safety precautions, requests for basic information. He doesn’t have any health conditions or allergies, so that’s easy enough to share.
His limits and interests are a bit more difficult. He’s thought about this a lot, wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t, but he knows that fantasies and reality don’t always mesh. He runs down the list of suggestions, circling anything he knows he’s interested in (bondage and domination, mainly) and crosses out anything he knows he never wants to happen (watersports, scarring, public humiliation). Narrowing it down makes it easier to go back and mark anything he’s less certain about as maybe or no.
It takes a while, longer than Steve expects if his watch is anything to go by, and it’s jarring not to be interrupted the entire time. It’s early enough in the day but he finds it hard to believe that no one would want into the club right now, if only to pick up something they forgot the night before.
“It’s—is it always this quiet in here?” Steve asks as he signs off on the last page and tries to stack the papers neatly.
“What?” Eddie looks up from where he’s been lazing over one of the armchairs, a book in one hand. His legs are splayed wide, one draped over the chair’s arm and the other resting on the floor. He glances toward the door and laughs. “Oh, this is my private entrance. If you decide to stay, I’ll show you where our members come in.”
Something about the sound of private entrance makes heat curl on the back of Steve’s neck, like he’s special, like this isn’t probably how Eddie vets every potential new member to his club. “Oh.”
“Are you finished?” Eddie asks, putting the book aside without marking his page and nodding at the paperwork trembling slightly in Steve’s hand.
“All set.” Steve crosses the room and hands it over, feeling oddly like he’s just shared a chapter of his non-existent diary.
It doesn’t help that Eddie flips through it all right in front of him, humming periodically. He looks up as he says, “What are you looking for in a dom?”
“I’m not quite sure. I’ve never—I’ve never done this before.”
Eddie nods. That was question number two in the paperwork: Briefly detail your past experience with D/S relationships. “Have you ever had sex with a man before?”
Steve’s tempted to lie, but he shoves it aside. It isn’t like Eddie’s going to judge him. “Never.”
“Do you want to?”
That one catches Steve off-guard and he forgets how to breathe in his rush to answer, “Yes.”
“Have you ever kissed a man?”
“Once.” It was a drunken game of spin the bottle, but it still counts. No one has to know the details.
Eddie looks back down. Even upside-down Steve knows the sheet on top is the one where he listed everything he’s most interested in trying. “How do you feel about me, Harrington?”
“I don’t—I don’t know you.”
“I suppose you don’t.” Eddie looks up, meeting Steve’s gaze without blinking. His eyes are dark and glinting with something that feels like danger. Steve’s cock stirs in his jeans. “But would you kneel for me?”
Steve swallows, his mouth gone suddenly dry. “Is that what you say to all the boys?”
“Only the pretty ones.” Eddie’s tongue flicks out, running over his bottom lip, and oh god—was that a flash of metal? “If you say no, I’ll still do my damnedest to find you the right match.”
Steve’s pretty sure the room is spinning. “And if I say yes?”
Eddie sets the paperwork on the floor and stands up, pressing easily into Steve’s space. They’re probably around the same height on even footing but with the combat boots, Steve feels like Eddie is towering over him. Eddie’s head tilts hard to the side, like he’s calculating the right angle to come in for a kiss. “I promise you won’t regret it.”