Chapter Text
Steve has always treated his pussy nicely.
It's always been gentle touches and light strokes. Sweet, slow coaxing to an orgasm, never any rush. He's never had to rush or be quiet, not with his big house and rarely-there parents.
And it was gentle touches and light strokes that made him so popular with the girls of Hawkins. Because he never rushed or was too rough. He started out with the same rhythms and pressure that he used on himself and went from there, listening to their pretty words and breaths until he had them tumbling over the edge with just his fingers.
Steve has always treated his pussy nicely, and right now is no different.
It's almost noon, from what the clock says on Eddie's nightstand. There's a note next to it, a bright blue Post-It that reads, Had to run errands. Be back soon.
Steve smiles when he reads it and rolls over on to his back. The sun is streaming in through the cracks in the blinds, making his whole body feel warm and slow, but Steve knows he's not going back to sleep.
Not when he woke up from a dream about Eddie, a dream so good that his boxers are sticking to him.
He strips them off and puts them under his hips. They won't be as good as a towel, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it? That and the fact that Eddie mentioned he had to wash the sheets anyway.
Steve takes the covers, resists the urge to shiver, and slowly reaches a hand down.
He spreads himself open with his index and ring fingers (he's so wet it's sticky) and grinds slow little circles into his clit with his middle finger, all while trying to remember the dream he had of Eddie.
It wasn't really a dream, not when it took so much inspiration from how Eddie had fucked him two days ago.
He speeds up his middle finger, pressing harder and faster into his clit.
Just like how Eddie gave it these fast, hard presses of his tongue, over and over again before he took it into his mouth and-
It's not enough. Steve slides his finger, down, down, through his slick folds and teases at edge of his hole. His thumb takes over at his clit, and his middle finger slides in, easy as anything.
Eddie slid one, two, three fingers inside as he kept his mouth on Steve's clit. He had moved them quickly and punishingly, crooking them into that spot that had Steve clenching and crying over and over and-
Steve slips his ring finger inside, then his index, whining a little at the full feeling. His fingers have always done the job in the past, but Eddie's were thicker, even if they were a little shorter. But Steve can't hold himself open like he wants and move his fingers inside like he wants and touch his clit like he wants if he gets a fourth finger in, so he settles for three, moving lazy and gentle inside and a little faster on the outside, and it's close but not enough.
"Come on, sweetheart," he hears Eddie say. "You can do it. You've been playing with it so sweet and nice, and you're almost there. You can do it."
And, really, that's all it takes, along with one more crook of his fingers and another heavy press to his clit, for Steve to arch off the bed with a soft cry of Eddie's name.
He comes down a little slowly, but eventually he takes his fingers out and wipes them on his boxers. He's still breathing hard, still pent up and ready for at least one more round when Eddie walks in.
He stops in the middle of the doorway, clearly about to say something. But he closes his mouth. Rakes his eyes over Steve's body. Zeroes in on his pussy, still wet.
A month ago, Steve would've blushed under the attention. Now?
He sits up and spreads his legs wider.
"Were you touching yourself, sweetheart?"
"Yeah," Steve breathes. It takes everything in him to not reach his hand down again, with how intensely Eddie is looking at him.
"Do you want me to leave?" Eddie asks.
"No," Steve says instantly. "I want you to touch me."
Eddie smiles this wolfish grin, and Steve really has to resist his hand traveling down.
Eddie strips off his jacket and vest, kicks off his shoes, and rolls up his sleeves. He lays down on the bed next to Steve, kisses him deep and slow and dirty, before he's prodding at his shoulders.
"Up," he says, and Steve complies easily.
Eddie situates himself behind Steve, ankles hooked inside both his legs, and he puts Steve's hands under his ass. When Steve squeezes him, he laughs and bites his shoulder. Slowly, he takes off his rings and sets them down on the nightstand.
Then he finally, finally runs one finger through Steve's folds, and Steve arches into the gentle touch.
"Good thing we have to wash the sheets," Eddie murmurs. "You're dripping, baby."
"Yeah," Steve says. "Thought of you."
"Jesus," Eddie says, muffling a little laugh in Steve's neck. "Do you want me to treat it nice or mean?"
"Mean."
"How mean?"
Steve turns his head back just enough to be able to look Eddie in the eyes. "Really mean."
Eddie swallows visibly, and that's how Steve knows he's won.
"Okay. You know your colors?"
"Yes, baby, I know my colors."
"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says. He kisses Steve's jaw softly, sweetly, at the same time he lays a hard smack to his pussy.
Steve groans and tries to close his legs, but Eddie's legs inside keep him from doing that.
"Really?" Eddie says. "You asked for this, and now you're gonna do that?"
"Sorry," Steve gasps. "Hurt, is all."
Eddie sucks a mark on Steve's neck, then pulls back to say, "That's why you asked for it, honey."
And then he smacks his pussy again. Grinds the heel of his hand way too damn hard into his clit.
Steve feels himself floating away, just a little bit more with every smack. He's brought back to earth, back to sharp awareness with every smack and god does it feel good.
Eddie's mean in every way imaginable, and he makes sure Steve never knows what's coming. He smacks his pussy with his whole hand, smacks his thighs, pinches his clit and his lips, and roughly puts his fingers inside before pulling them out again.
Steve loves it. He feels himself gushing like a goddamn faucet, hears how the smack of Eddie's hand gets wetter and wetter, feels how his grip on his clit or his lips gets more slippery.
"Clean it up," Eddie tells him twice, and both times, he holds up his hand to Steve's mouth. Both times, Steve licks it clean. And both times, Eddie uses his other arm, the one wrapped around Steve's waist, to pull him back a little, to manhandle him into grinding on Eddie's dick, still in his jeans.
"I'm close," Steve whispers after the second time Eddie makes him lick his hand. He lets his head drop back on to Eddie's shoulder and grinds back on his dick.
"You are?" Eddie asks, just a little patronizing in a way that has Steve's eyes rolling back into his head. He straightens up when Eddie pinches his lips roughly. "Let go whenever you're ready, baby."
And then, because Eddie is an asshole in the best way, he starts smacking Steve's pussy and doesn't stop.
The harsh, wet sounds echo in his room as Eddie winds up and brings his hand down again and again. Steve writhes and tries to close his legs, but Eddie won't let him, and Eddie won't stop unless Steve says "yellow" or "red."
Steve has no desire to say "yellow" or "red," not when he feels this good.
It takes sixteen harsh smacks with no break - Eddie counts in Steve's hear - before Steve tips over that edge again and soaks Eddie's hand.
Eddie doesn't even have to tell Steve this time. He just brings his hand up to his mouth, and Steve licks over his palm and tries to suck as many of his fingers into his mouth as he can.
When Steve stops shaking, he feels Eddie shift out from underneath him. He makes grabby hands and whines, placated by the hand Eddie rests in his hair.
"Not going anywhere," Eddie soothes. "Just getting my jeans off."
Steve hears the hiss of his belt sliding through the loops of his jeans, and before he can stop himself, spreads his legs again and honest to god whimpers.
"Please," he begs.
He has his eyes closed, but he can see Eddie perfectly in his head: eyes blown out with lust, and a mix of confusion and admiration on his face.
"Please, what?" Eddie asks.
Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, really looks at him in the way that makes him hope he'll get exactly what he wants. Eddie looks exactly like how he thought he'd look in his head, and the belt is still in his hand.
Steve's mouth waters, looking at the black leather.
"Please smack my pussy," he says, enunciating carefully, "with the belt."
Eddie's eyes roll back into his head. Steve watches him take a deep breath, then another, trying to compose himself.
And then Eddie strips off his jeans and boxers so fast that Steve barely sees them come off.
"So fucking hot," Eddie says, crawling back on to the bed and kissing Steve again and again and again. And then he's putting himself behind Steve, like before, only Steve can feel his dick so much better like this and grinds into it again and again.
Until Eddie smacks his pussy with the belt.
Steve. Fucking. Screams.
And then he begs.
"Again," he says through tears. "Again, please again."
Eddie licks the tears off the side of his face, smiles, and kisses his cheek.
And then he brings the belt down again and again and again, on Steve's thighs, his pussy, everywhere it'll reach.
Steve looks down, sees the welts that are forming, and moans again. He won't be able to sit for a week, but it's so worth it. It's so worth it.
"How are we doing, sweetheart?" Eddie asks.
"Green," Steve sobs. "Green, more, please-"
And Eddie has never denied him.
He smacks him once, twice, and one last time before he holds the belt against him and Steve grinds on it until he's gushing on to the leather.
"So good, honey," he hears Eddie whisper behind him. He's shifted a little to the side, and he hears Eddie spit into his hand before he's jerking himself off, knuckles bumping into Steve's hip with every upstroke.
For the first time, Steve takes his hands out from under Eddie. Before he can say anything, he grabs the belt and licks his slick off it.
"Fuck," Eddie groans, and then he's finishing all over his fist and Steve's thigh.
He sags against the headboard, and Steve follows, his back resting against his chest.
When they both stop shaking, Eddie mumbles, "We should shower."
Steve hums in agreement.
"And wash the sheets."
"Yeah, but the sun's nice." It's dappled over both of them, warm and gold and lazily inviting.
Eddie gently kisses his jaw. "Yeah, the sun is nice."
And if the two of them sit for a little longer in the sun, holding each other and whispering and laughing, well, being a little more gross before they shower is worth it.