Archive of Our Own

“Now boarding First Class passengers … Passengers seated in the First Class cabin may now board Delta flight 502 with nonstop service to Seattle, Washington…”

Eddie does his best to stifle a groan as he rises from the uncomfortable airport seating and gathers his backpack before making his way to join the queue so he can board his flight.

As his fellow travelers line up to board the plane, he pulls out his phone and sends a text to his best friend and publicist to let her know that he’s actually boarding the flight and she won't have to raise a search party for him like the last time she booked a flight for one of his book tours.

He smiles as he closes out his text messages, his anxiety slightly eased after chatting with Chrissy. She really is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and he truly has no idea where he would be without her. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and takes several deep breaths as the middle aged woman queued up beside him offers a sympathetic smile.

“Nervous flyer?” She asks, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she reaches out to pat Eddie gently on the forearm as they make their way toward the podium to scan their boarding passes.

“It’s that obvious, huh?” Eddie replies through a strained chuckle. “I can’t stand to fly. Would rather drive if I can help it, but I need to be in Seattle for a commitment and it just wasn’t an option this time,” he says with a wry smile as they inch their way forward in line. He cringes with every fuck-off insufferably obnoxious beep of the scanner serving as some kind of low-rent beacon — just a dime-store accompaniment to the forward momentum of each person shuffling along to close the distance between him and hell. Each beep bringing him a few steps closer to meeting his gruesome and untimely demise.

“Wow. You sure are a dramatic one, aren’t you?” The kind woman beside him says with a laugh as she adjusts the strap on her bag.

“Oh. Shit, did I say all that out loud?” Eddie asks, aghast as she raises her eyebrows in amusement and nods in response. “Sorry, sorry! Yeah, I’m a writer, so I tend to lean pretty heavily into the drama, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, no judgment here,” she says with a wink as she nudges Eddie’s shoulder. “I get it. Big, heavy metal tube hurtling through the air at a high rate of speed and all. It shouldn’t work, right?”

“Yes, exactly! You do get it!”

“Look, I know it’s hard when your brain is force-feeding you irrational thoughts, but flying really is the safer option for traveling cross-country. Before you know it we’ll all be safely on the ground in Seattle.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says with a sigh as he gestures for her to go ahead of him as the pair steps forward to scan their passes. “I appreciate it, really. I’m sorry — I promise I’m not a kook. I actually do understand that it’s an irrational fear to most people.”

“No need to apologize,” she says with a wink. “I’m Joyce, by the way. Looks like I’m in the row ahead of yours, so if you start to feel too anxious you can just tap the back of my seat and we can have a little chat to take your mind off things if you feel like that’ll help.”

“Thanks, Joyce. I’m Eddie, by the way,” Eddie says as he scans his boarding pass and pockets his phone.

“So, you’re a writer? Tell me about your work,” Joyce says as they make their way down the jetbridge, chatting amiably as they board the plane and find their seats.

Eddie finds that he’s a little bit sad that Joyce isn’t seated beside him — she’s incredibly easy to talk with. He settles into his seat and pulls out some sanitizing wipes to clean the tray table and armrest before grabbing his earbuds and iPad from his bag before he’s compelled to stow his bag beneath the seat in front of him for the duration of the flight. He settles himself as best he can against the window, taking several deep breaths to try and calm his nerves.

It’s just a few hours. He can do this.

“Can I get you something to drink before we get underway, Sir?” he hears as he looks up to find a pretty blonde flight attendant at his side, her smile warm and inviting.

“Uh … yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie muses as he checks his watch. It’s nearly three thirty. Though he’s not much of a day drinker, he could use the false security of a little liquid courage. Plus, he’ll have a car to collect him and take him to the hotel once he lands in Seattle, so … may as well. “I’ll have a Woodford Reserve, please. Thanks, Katie,” he says as he takes note of her name badge.

“Rocks?”

“Nah, I’ll take it neat. I’ll need it full octane if I’m gonna get through this flight,” he says with a wink as he drums his fingertips on the center armrest between seats.

“You got it,” she replies as she makes a quick note of his request and moves on to the next row to take their drink orders.

Eddie sighs as he scrolls through his calendar to refresh himself on his itinerary for the next few days in Seattle. He’s got a couple of book signings and an interview at some local tv affiliate morning show before the big launch reception his publishers have planned this weekend.

And then … he has to do all of this again. Another flight. He shudders at the thought, scolding himself internally as he hears the echo of Chrissy Cunningham’s voice in his mind.

‘Eddie, if you really want to get behind this book and make the launch a success you won’t be able to do everything by car or train. It just won’t be possible, babe. I promise it will all be worth it in the end. So get yourself medicated or something and suck it the fuck up.’

And the thing is, he knows she’s right. In the grand scheme of things, air travel genuinely is the safest way to go. He’s done the research, crunched the numbers. So he knows that accidents involving aircraft are so few and far between that the statistical significance when considering the grand scheme of things and his own meager travel requirements … well, it’s damn near microscopic.

But still.

All it takes is one.

And despite Chrissy’s often warped perspective, Eddie Munson has historically never had the best luck in the world. So he’s as likely as anyone else to be involved in the worst disaster in aviation history. Probably more so, according to the Munson Doctrine, anyhow.

He’s pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the reappearance of the lovely Katie (god bless her!), his much-needed bourbon in hand, immediately followed by the arrival of a stunningly gorgeous tower of a man who smiles as he takes his place in the seat beside Eddie and efficiently stows his belongings. It’s ridiculous how attractive the guy is, all broad shoulders and tanned skin. Eddie struggles to tear his eyes away from the man, his casual-yet-perfectly-tailored clothing and immaculately coiffed hair making Eddie feel even more self conscious and out of place than he usually does.

Katie offers Eddie’s seatmate a pre-departure beverage as well before she moves on to continue doing all the things that flight crews do before these 40-ton metal monstrosities take to the skies and somehow transport idiots like Eddie to far-flung locations. Eddie has no idea what that could possibly entail, but he’s certain it must be important.

“Uh, sure … I’d love an ice water,” the unfairly pretty man says with a grin as he gets settled in his aisle seat. “Thanks so much — appreciate it.”

Eddie forces himself to look away lest he be caught out in a dead-eyed stare. He sips his bourbon and peers out the window as the remaining passengers board the plane, his anxiety climbing with each passing moment.

Fuck, he’s really pretty.

“Oh my god! Mom! It’s Steve Harrington!” Eddie hears as a young kid pauses in the aisle and points at Eddie’s seatmate and his mother tries in vain to get the kid to put his hand down and move on.

“Don’t be rude,” she admonishes quietly as she offers an apologetic smile in Steve’s direction. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay. It doesn’t bother me at all, really,” the guy — Steve, apparently — says in response as he offers a fist bump to the kid in the aisle. “How’s it going, bud?”

“Oh my god — can I have your autograph?”

“Joey!” The kid’s mother hisses as she desperately tries to nudge the kid forward so they don’t hold up the boarding process, “Let’s just leave Mr. Harrington alone and take our seats, okay? He doesn’t need people bothering him.”

“Tell you what,” Steve says with a conspiratorial grin, “Once we get going and we have some more time I’ll sign something for you if you like. That cool with you?”

“YES! Awesome! See, mom? He’s cool!”

Eddie chuckles as they move on and the remaining passengers board the plane.

Who the hell is this guy?

Eddie tries to busy himself with some light doomscrolling as the final preparations for their departure begin in earnest. He’s knee-deep in Reddit when his attention is once more drawn to someone asking Steve Harrington for an autograph.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, of course. My nephew is a big fan — he never misses the summer games. We had watch parties and everything!” The passenger seated across the aisle from Steve’s seat is asking, his expression hopeful while being just slightly timid.

“Sure, I’ll be happy to. Once we get underway I’ll sign something for you, no problem.”

Seriously, who the fuck is Steve fucking Harrington?

After what feels like an eternity, the boarding door is closed and the plane pulls away from the gate and the pre-departure safety video begins to play on the individual video screens at each seat. Eddie feels his anxiety peaking once again as the friendly faces on the screen explain all about oxygen masks and how to inflate your life jacket (which thankfully is equipped with a little water-activated light in case they go down on the North Atlantic, Titanic style). The video of potential horrors thankfully finally ends, and Eddie forces down his panic as the flight attendants buckle themselves in and the plane begins to taxi down the runway, picking up speed.

“Hey,” Steve Harrington whispers as he leans toward Eddie, “ever notice how they quit calling it ‘turbulence’ and now they use ‘rough air?’ Feels like they’re babying us a little bit with that one, huh?” He says with a chuckle, his eyebrows raised playfully. “I mean, if the plane could potentially start shaking mid-air like a rickety old car on a wooden roller coaster, the least they can do is call it what it is, am I right? I mean … oh, shit. You okay, man?”

Eddie nods, his mouth suddenly gone dry. “Uh … yeah, man. I’m — I’m uh, good. I’m good. Just not a huge fan of flying I guess.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to make light of it, I swear. Well, okay, maybe a little bit. But I wasn’t trying to be a dick about it. If I had known …”

“Dude, it’s fine. I’m a grown man, I’ll be fine, it’s okay. No way you could have known, it’s not your probl—oh fuck!” Eddie gasps as the landing gear begins to lift off the ground and he involuntarily reaches out and squeezes the forearm of this complete stranger as they take to the air. “Shit! I’m sorry, man. Didn't mean to do that, I swear. Fuck,” Eddie says breathlessly as he quickly pulls his hand back, completely mortified. “How embarrassing!’

“Hey, it’s no problem, really. I could launch into a whole thing about air travel being super safe and all but I’m sure you’ve heard all of that before and that’s probably not gonna be super helpful is it?”

“Not even slightly helpful, no,” Eddie says through clenched teeth as he fights another wave of panic. “But I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll be fine — I’ll just count backward from a billion or something.”

“Hey, sure. Whatever works,” Steve says with a sympathetic smile. “Maybe when the flight attendant comes back you should order another drink?”

“Katie.”

“Sorry?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh. Uh, okay, yeah. Sure. Katie. Want me to call her over?”

“No. I’ll just … I’m fine.” Eddie takes several deep breaths and leans his head against the window, seething with irritation at his own irrational, panic-addled brain.

Of course he’s done something obscenely embarrassing in front of the most stunningly beautiful man he’s seen in ages. Munson luck.

Eddie settles in against the window and squeezes his eyes closed as he focuses on his breathing. Not even twenty minutes into this journey and already he’s made an ass of himself. The captain makes an announcement about how he’s turning the seatbelt sign off but to keep seatbelts fastened when in your seats — which is a bit of a contradiction if ever Eddie’s heard one — but everything must be going relatively okay if they’re saying people can get up and move around if they need to, he supposes.

He pops in his earbuds and opens a playlist — maybe some old school metal will help to take his mind off the situation at hand — but he quickly silences the opening riff of Master of Puppets when the literal angel called Katie appears to ask if he’d like another drink and to confirm his meal selection. Eddie orders another bourbon — because of course he’s not getting through the rest of this torture without one — and watches in fascination as three more passengers approach Steve to gush about how amazing he is.

The guy pulls a Sharpie out of his bag and signs a couple of autographs, his smile wide and eyes twinkling as he speaks to the pair of kids who’ve come up to him shyly, their Dad offering apologies for disturbing him.

Hell, even Joyce gets in on the action, turning in her seat to also address this Steve guy. She’s effusive in her praise, echoing the other travelers’ remarks about how talented the guy is and how much she admires him.

Why the fuck has Eddie never heard of this dude before?

Fuck it. He turns his phone slightly to avoid any unfortunate peeking and sighs deeply as he navigates to his text messages and fires off a text to Chrissy.

‘Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this’ he thinks to himself as he waits for Chrissy to reply. How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie does his best to act casual and resumes scrolling on his phone as he awaits Chrissy’s response. She really is the best friend he’s ever had, even if she drives him nuts and teases him relentlessly about his romantic pursuits. Or lack thereof. He chews on his fingernail as he waits.

What the hell is taking so long? Is she really not gonna look the guy up for him?

Eddie smirks as he reads Chrissy’s messages. Olympic athlete is not even on the spectrum of things Eddie would have imagined this guy being known for. And people recognize him to the extent that multiple people have been asking for his autograph?

On the other hand, he supposes that’s a thing people do. Sports of any kind have never been in his wheelhouse, but sure, why not. People are into all sorts of things, so why not Olympic watch parties and shit? Couldn’t be him, but who is he to judge?

He knows there’s more than a few jokes there around the whole pole vault thing too, but he’ll save those for another time. And the search suggestion auto-populated ‘Steve Harrington gay?’ … hm, what’s that about? And a wardrobe mishap? Eddie casts a sideways glance in Steve’s direction as he awaits more information from Chrissy.

His interest is more than piqued, to say the least.

Eddie begrudgingly unclasps his seatbelt and gives Steve a gentle nudge on the shoulder to let him up so he can head to the rest room to see whatever the hell Chrissy just sent him. He smiles and nods in thanks as Steve gracefully stands to let him pass, and he makes his way to the tiny rest room as quickly as possible. He needs to get this thing done as quickly as he can — the idea of being up and walking around if the plane hits any ‘rough air’ is already making his palms sweat.

He locks the door behind him and double checks that his earbuds are firmly planted in his ears so he can watch the video discreetly as god intended. He’ll never recover if the Bluetooth somehow fails and everyone within earshot hears whatever it is that Chrissy just sent him. Which, to be fair, is more than likely completely innocent.

The thing is, with Chrissy it’s always a crap shoot. He’s been in far too many meetings when he’s received literal porn from that menace. It was only under threat of murder that she finally started adding spoiler filters to her porn before dropping hardcore video clips on Eddie at the most random times.

Eddie smiles fondly as he clicks the link Chrissy forwarded. He really does love that tiny menace with all his heart. He should bring her something nice from Seattle.

Eddie opens the article and skips reading it — he’s interested in the attached video. She did say he had to watch, not read. So the article can wait. He adjusts the volume on his earbuds as the linked video begins to play.

“Oh holy hell … what the fuck?!?” Eddie whispers as he watches in awe. The video begins as what appears to be a track meet or something similar is underway, the frame zooming in on Steve Harrington as he takes off at full speed down the track, a huge pole in his grasp. He makes it nearly halfway before he suddenly stumbles and falls forward, the pole skittering away as he lands face-down on the ground.

Several trainers and other staff rush to his aid as Harrington’s hand disappears beneath his body, clearly either checking for an injury or adjusting something. He rises to his feet moments later, his hand still draped across his front, shielding his crotch from view.

Eddie has tuned out the announcers as he struggles to get a read on the conversation happening between Steve and the staff members who have come to his aid.

Did he just say … no, it can’t be.

Eddie backs up the video and watches again. It looks like he said ‘fell out.’

What fell out?

He backs it up again. He's not an expert lip reader, but he can make out most things if the speaker’s mouth isn’t obscured.

Yep.

‘My dick fell out.’

That’s what this fucker just said.

He backs it up again.

‘My dick fell out.’

Holy mother of fucking Christ — WHAT?

Eddie watches again.

‘My dick fell out.’

He watches again.

The training staff take a few moments to check Harrington over before escorting him behind a privacy tent, likely for a more extensive check. Moments later, he emerges to resounding cheers and returns to his starting position, pole firmly in his grasp once again.

He’s got different bottoms on.

Eddie exits the video and reads the brief article accompanying it — it appears that yes, the man’s dick really had fallen out mid-run.

Holy shit.

Steve went on to qualify for the Olympic team after his mishap, and the rest is history, as they say.

Dumbfounded, Eddie reopens the text exchange with Chrissy.

“WOO him? Come the fuck on, Cunningham,” Eddie whispers, chuckling softly.

He closes out his messages and pockets his phone before checking his reflection in the mirror. He looks surprisingly okay. Passable. Chrissy would say he even looks camera-ready, despite his flight-related anxiety. Hair is good, outfit is good. She would be proud.

He’s not about to examine why he cares about his appearance only now that he’s learned that his seatmate is apparently walking around with a fucking howitzer in his fucking drawers.

It’s completely unrelated, surely.

He washes his hands — because even if he didn’t actually use the bathroom, something about even entering the space makes him feel like he needs to give his hands a good scrub.

Now how is he supposed to return to his seat and just act normal after having seen all that?

Eddie makes his way back to his seat just as the lovely Katie is bringing out linens for the meal service. He buckles himself back in and opens his tray table, offering a smile to his apparently insanely well-hung seatmate as he too takes his seat.

Eddie is not trying to sneak a peek at the man’s crotch.

Well, okay maybe he is, but could anyone really blame him?

It fucking FELL OUT???

Mid-sprint?

“… with your meal?”

“Huh? What? I’m so sorry,” Eddie stammers, his cheeks reddening.

“It’s okay. I just asked if you’d care for another bourbon with your meal?” Katie asks again, her smile lighting her expression.

“Oh! I’m so sorry — I was off in another world apparently. No bourbon this time, but could I have a ginger ale?”

“Of course. And for you, Sir?” She asks Steve as he also readies his tray table.

“I’d love a Coke. Thanks, Katie.”

Eddie shifts awkwardly in his seat for a moment as he tries to come up with a game plan on how exactly he’s going to appear to act even halfway normal given what he’s just learned about the man seated beside him. They still have several hours of this godforsaken flight to get through, after all.

“So, uh …”

“You googled me, didn't you?” Steve says with a wry half-smile, one eyebrow cocked.

“What? No!” Eddie exclaims, and he feels smug in the knowledge that it isn’t technically a lie. But aside from that, how full of himself is this guy actually?

What, everyone he meets just googles him as a matter of course?

“Dude, it’s fine. It happens all the time,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Hang on a second here,” Eddie begins as Katie returns with their drinks. He accepts his gratefully, taking a huge sip before he continues. “You’re pretty full of yourself, aren't ya? What — everyone you meet just googles you as a matter of course?”

“Pretty much,” Steve says as he raises his own glass to take a sip. “Seriously, it’s more than okay. Look, this is how is usually goes. I show up someplace and people are all ‘how do I know that guy’ and when they either hear my name or remember it on their own, they do a web search. And then it turns into ‘oh holy shit, that’s the guy whose dick fell out at a worldwide televised sporting event.’ And then things either get very jokey or very uncomfortable. Like I said, I’m used to it, and you have that same look.”

“I have a look?”

“Yep,” Steve says as he sips his drink, “you do. It’s the ‘how do I act normal around this guy now’ look.”

“Okay, well. First off, I did not google you.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and cocks his head in disbelief.

“What? I didn’t!” Eddie exclaims, feigning indignation as he takes another sip from his ginger ale. “My best friend did and then she texted me,” he mumbles, smirking into his glass.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Steve needles. “Didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “I said my best friend did the googling and then sent me the results. So no, I truly did not actually google you. Besides, it’s awfully presumptuous of you to think that my uneasiness is related to anything other than my crippling fear of flying. Or maybe I just think you’re pretty. But in any case, nope. Did not google you.”

“Ah. Okay, I see. Makes complete sense,” Steve pauses as Katie sets their meal trays down on their tray tables. “So, you think I’m pretty, is that what I’m hearing?”

“Oh shut up. You know you are,” Eddie scoffs.

Steve chuckles softly as he unfolds his napkin and places it in his lap. “So what did she find, your friend? It’s fine, you can ask me anything. Trust me, I’ve heard it all before.”

“Oh, yeah? That sounds spicy. Maybe even a little bit provocative. And what exactly is it that you think I’ve learned from google that might be provocative, pray tell?”

“Pssh. Okay, man, sure. We don’t need to talk about anything at all. No sweat off my sack. It’s just what usually happens, and you strike me as an okay guy, so I figured I’d just put it out there. But I’m perfectly happy to ignore the thing and just make small talk or something. So, where are you from?”

“Ha ha so funny,” Eddie snarks. “I live in Chicago, actually. You?”

“Chicago as well. What’s in Seattle for you?”

“Book tour. That and some big reception my publisher is hosting this weekend.”

“Oh? What genre do you write?”

“Mostly fantasy and supernatural shit. You know, all the big scary monsters your parents assured you weren’t hiding under the bed when you were a kid. That sort of thing. What’s in Seattle for you?”

“Ah — that sounds cool as hell. I’m not much of a reader myself, but I do enjoy that genre of movies. I’m headed out to Seattle for a few speaking engagements.”

Eddie nods as he digs into his short rib, carefully considering his next question before speaking.

Steve did say it was fine to ask about it.

But does he really want to be that guy?

Fuck it.

“Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Yeah? That a promise, tiger?” Steve asks, his eyebrows raised as he sips his drink.

“Jesus! You’re pretty cocky, aren’t ya? But I guess you would have to be, to rise to the rank of Olympian and all. And also — tiger? Really?”

“Aha! There it is. Cocky. Interesting turn of phrase, that. So … is that what you want to know? About the mishap at trials, right? And also by the way, why not ‘tiger?’ Seems to suit you alright,” Steve says with a shrug as he cuts a piece from his short rib and Eddie is mesmerized as Steve lifts the fork to his mouth, parting them just wide enough to allow the morsel to pass between those supple, full lips.

Eddie hears the clicking of his own throat as he swallows hard, enthralled as Steve chews almost obscenely slowly before swallowing and licking his lips, never breaking eye contact.

“So go ahead and ask me. Or better yet, I’ll just tell you, how would that be?” Steve asks, his voice pitched low as he leans into Eddie’s space. “Yeah, it really happened. My dick really did fall out of my shorts on my first attempt at trials. No, I didn’t get hurt. My dick is just fine — the only casualty was a nick to my pride. But just a little one,” he says with a wink.

“Okay …” Eddie begins as he slowly lays his fork down on the tray. He’s immeasurably grateful for the tray table covering his lap and shielding his now very interested cock from view. No way Steve didn’t just do that shit on purpose, eating that way. This dude is trouble with a capital T and Eddie would be a big fat liar if he tried to say he isn’t into it. “That’s — uh, that’s good to know. But … how? I mean, how did it just fall out? Don’t you sporty types wear like … jockstraps or something? It can just fall out? Also … and I think this bears repeating … how? And how did you not hurt your … uh … self?”

Steve laughs — a warm, rich sound that makes Eddie’s breath hitch just a little bit.

But just a little bit.

“Okay, so the how is pretty self-explanatory, I think. I mean … gravity, I guess? Newton’s Law and all that, unstoppable force vs immovable object or whatever the fuck. And no, we don’t typically use jock straps in my event. That’s more for contact sports. Usually the compression shorts and such do a pretty decent job of keeping everything … under control, as it were.”

“But not this time?”

“Not this time. And that was entirely on me, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I really wanted to nail my marks, you know? So I wanted to be a little more comfortable out there — tried some new gear. And the rest, as they say, is history. Want to know a little secret, though?” Steve says with a wink as he leans in a little closer.

“Uh … yeah. Sure, man.”

“I didn’t trip. Once I felt things starting to move, I could tell what was about to happen, so I took a dive.”

“You took a dive? What, like a boxer?”

Steve laughs, his eyes sparkling. “Not quite. But kind of, I guess? I was trying to protect my dignity and the eyes of any unsuspecting little kids who might be watching. Or anyone who wasn’t interested in seeing my junk, really. So I fell forward on purpose. Thankfully I’ve had my share of falls and I know how to do it safely.”

“But even after that you made it through to the Olympic team? That’s really wild, man.”

“Not really. I mean, yeah I suppose to a degree, but in trials you get three attempts and the best of three is what determines whether or not you make it through to represent your nation. And thankfully for me that was my first attempt, so I still had two more chances. I ended up changing into my usual gear and I cleared 5.9 to qualify, so it worked out fine in the end.”

“You cleared 5.9 feet? That’s great. I mean, I have no frame of reference or anything, but it seems great.”

“Meters.”

“Sorry?”

“5.9 meters. Olympic track & field uses metric. Well, all track & field, does, actually.”

“Oh. Okay then. Not at all trying to remember the conversion from feet to meters or anything right now, don’t mind me.”

“It’s a little over 3 feet per meter,” Steve says with a wink as he takes another bite of his short rib.

‘No way he’s not doing this shit on purpose,’ Eddie thinks as he once again can’t tear his eyes away from Steve’s mouth as he chews agonizingly slowly and licks his lips.

“Okay so 5.9 meters is …” Eddie says as he takes another sip from his ginger ale.

“Just under nineteen & a half feet.”

Eddie nearly chokes, sputtering as he struggles to catch his breath. “Oh, fuck off. That cannot be accurate.”

“Fuck off? Harsh,” Steve says, laughing.

Eddie is mesmerized by the cute little laugh lines that appear at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he laughs.

“You launched yourself over nineteen feet in the air on the end of a fucking stick?”

Steve nods, a smug grin on his face. “Got up to 6.1 meters in the Games, too. That’s over twenty feet, by the way. Still only took Silver though,” he says wistfully. “Ah, well. Maybe next time.”

“This is by far one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had,” Eddie muses as he continues to work on his meal. “I’m curious about something though.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“What did you mean when you said you’ve heard it all before? That sounded like you’ve heard some unsavory remarks. I mean, it’s crazy impressive, what you did there. Shaking off what would have had most people cowering in a corner from embarrassment and then going on to not only make the Olympic team, but to win a medal as well? What negative thing could people possibly have to say about that whole … situation?”

“Oh … well, you know. I suppose they’re not terribly negative, per se, but I’ve heard all the crass jokes. How I could ‘save the team some money on equipment by just using my own pole.’ How ‘I should be fined or disqualified for having two poles to compete instead of just the one.’ Other competitors finding out that I named by vault pole ‘daddy’ so they talk to my groin and address it as 'Junior.’ And that's not even mentioning all the cracks about being an out and proud gay pole vaulter and how ‘of course I know how to handle multiple poles at a time.’ That sort of thing.”

Eddie feels mildly guilty for thinking something very similar himself about the whole pole vault thing. He contemplates apologizing but decides against it — after all, Steve just said it’s a pretty common reaction to his whole story.

“You — uh, did you just say that named your vault pole ‘daddy?’” Eddie asks through a lopsided grin.

“Wow. All that — and that’s the thing you’re focusing on?” Steve says, laughing. “Incredible. Yeah, that’s daddy. My lucky pole. I’ve won a lot of events with that one. I also have momma and junior. They’re lighter and shorter though.”

“Well … I think it’s been clearly established that ‘Junior’ is only slightly lighter and shorter though, no?”

“Keep it up and you might be in a position to find out,” Steve says with a wink.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie has never been more grateful for a tray table in his life.

“Enough about me now. Tell me about these scary monsters of yours. And then tell me all the ways you’d protect me from them.”

Katie comes by to clear their trays just as Eddie is beginning to explain the premise of his latest vampire series, and they both decide to order a bourbon to enjoy as they pass the time.

Steve is a great listener, it turns out, and Eddie barely registers the jolt as the plane touches down in Seattle. He’s almost sorry to have the journey reach its end. Which is incredibly odd, given the crippling dread that accompanied the start of this trip.

As they begin to deplane, Eddie catches Joyce’s eye on the jetbridge and she gives him a knowing wink. “Looks like you’ve made yourself a new friend,” she says through a grin as they walk together toward the terminal.

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie replies, watching fondly as Steve signs another autograph for a little kid. “It definitely helped to take my mind off the whole giant metal tube hurtling through the sky thing, too.”

“So happy for you. You’re a cute couple.”

“Couple? Come on now. We just met.”

“Sure, sure. Anything you say. Have fun in Seattle, Eddie,” Joyce says as she pats Eddie on the forearm and makes her way into the terminal, leaving him behind.

Eddie is torn for a moment — should he wait for Steve to finish talking with the kid? Nah. That would be more than a little bit odd. Bordering on creepy, really. He sighs heavily as he shoulders his backpack and pulls out his phone so he can text Chrissy to let her know he landed safely and did not, in fact perish in a fiery crash.

Eddie pockets his phone as Steve jogs up to him, a huge ear-to-ear grin on his face.

“Eddie! Good, you’re still here. Listen … uh, I don’t know how much free time you’ll have while you’re here in town, but how would you feel about grabbing dinner? I’ll have my evenings free and I’m here through the weekend. Or — if that doesn’t work out, how about getting together when we get back to Chicago?”

Eddie stares for a moment, his mouth hanging stupidly open in shock.

“Uh … what? Are you — um, are you asking me out?”

“Uh, yeah. Thought that was pretty obvious. I mean, I know we just met and all, but I’d really like to get to know you better. If you’re interested, of course.”

“Me?”

“Uh — YES you. Unless there’s another adorably awkward writer standing behind you?”

“Oh! I mean, yeah, I’d love to. Just … a bit surprised, is all. Yeah, I have most of evenings free as well while I’m here in town. Do you … I mean … can I … do you want my number?”

“Jesus Christ you are so fucking cute,” Steve says, laughing as he passes his phone to Eddie. “Here, put your number in and I’ll text you so you have mine.”

Eddie accepts the phone with trembling hands and types in his number before handing it back. “Here you go. I’ll look forward to your call. Text. Whatever. You know what I mean,” he says, blushing furiously.

Steve chuckles softly as he navigates to Eddie’s contact and sends a text. He grins at Eddie, his eyes twinkling, as he pockets his phone and shoulders his own bag.

Eddie feels his phone vibrate a moment later and smiles as he reads the text Steve sent. “Steve from the Olympics, huh?”

“Well. You saved your number as ‘Eddie Munson from the Plane,’ so I thought it was only fitting. Text me later and we can make some dinner plans, okay?”

“Yeah. Yes, yeah. Sounds great. I’ll text you. So you can ‘woo me,’ apparently,” Eddie says, a bit breathless.

“Not just woo you. Woo you proper. Get it right, tiger,” Steve says with a wink as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll be looking forward to it. See you soon, Eddie Munson from the plane,” he says as he turns and walks away.

By the time Eddie reaches his hotel, he’s exhausted. All he wants to do is have a nice hot shower, order some room service, and find some truly trashy reality show to binge watch on Netflix.

It’s been a hell of a day, and though he is completely over the moon with excitement and anticipation about having a date with Steve, he’s also completely wiped out from the peaks and valleys his emotions have been through in the process of securing said date.

He shoulders his way into his hotel room and drops his bags unceremoniously in the living area. This is a really nice place Chrissy booked him into — he’ll have to make it a point to thank her tomorrow. He sighs as he retrieves his dobbs kit and some sleep clothes from his bag before making his way to the bathroom so he can have an obscenely hot shower. He’ll unpack later.

He decides to go ahead and place a room service order before his shower so he’ll have it ready by the time he gets out. The food on the plane wasn’t bad, but what he really wants now is a thick, juicy burger and some fries. He orders a bottle of Woodford as well — after all, he doesn't have to be at his first engagement tomorrow until the afternoon so he can afford to have a drink or two. Plus, it will be good to have some on hand in the room anyhow. He orders two ice waters as well — he doesn’t want to look like a degenerate or anything.

He’s just towel drying his hair after his very lengthy shower when he hears a loud knock on his door.

“Shitshitshit!” He exclaims as he rushes to grab a robe from the closet so he can answer the door. ‘Damn, this place is quick,’ he thinks to himself as he laments the fact that he didn’t even have time to throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before his order arrived.

Oh well. Surely the staff has seen far worse than Eddie Munson in a bathrobe.

He rushes to the door and flings it open, an apology already on his lips as he’s taken aback by the sight of the room service attendant talking with someone in the hallway.

Someone … familiar?

What the hell?

“Steve??” Eddie says, completely dumbfounded. “What the … uh … huh? What are you doing here?”

“Holy shit!” Steve exclaims from the doorway adjacent to Eddie’s, his hair still damp from what clearly must have been a shower of his own. He looks effortlessly relaxed in his gray sweats and tank top. “What are the odds of this, huh? I placed a room service order and when I heard the knock I assumed it was for my room. So, you’re my neighbor, huh? Nice robe.”

Eddie laughs nervously, his cheeks flushing crimson as he pulls the robe closer around him and cinches the waist. “Uh … sorry,” he says to the room service attendant as he steps aside so he can drop off the cart. “Just … anywhere in there is fine. Thanks.”

He turns to look at Steve, his eyes wide. “This is insane, right? Like, truly remarkable turn of events here.”

“I was just thinking the same thing, actually. Hey, how would you feel about that dinner? I mean, since we both ordered food and all … could be a nice, low-key way to get that first official date out of the way?”

“Mr. Harrington, are you trying to charm your way into my hotel room?” Eddie asks as he flutters his eyelashes.

“Mr. Munson? Could you sign this for me?” The attendant asks as he finishes setting the room service cart up in Eddie’s sitting room. Eddie signs and adds a healthy tip, thanking the man profusely. “Your order should be up momentarily, Mr. Harrington,” he says as he thanks them both and makes a quick exit.

“Is it working?” Steve asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“Huh? Is what working?”

“Me charming my way into your hotel room.”

“Oh! Well, it might be. What did you order?”

“Burger and fries. You?”

“Same.”

“So what do you say? Totally cool if you’d rather not.”

“No! I’d actually really like that. I just need like five minutes to throw some clothes on.”

“Well, if you feel you must …” Steve says with a grin.

“You’re hilarious. But, yeah, just have them bring your stuff here when they come. I’ll be ready to receive visitors momentarily,” Eddie says, smiling as he quietly closes the door.

‘SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT! Okay. Fuck. It’s fine. Just … calm the fuck down. You’ve spent all afternoon talking to this guy, it’s not like he’s a complete stranger,’ Eddie says to himself as he tears through the room to make sure everything is presentable. Which, there’s no reason it shouldn’t be. After all, he literally just got there. He tears through his suitcase to change out what he intended to wear with something just slightly cuter.

No reason.

One more frantic rummage through his suitcase reveals the two items Chrissy always seems to sneak into his bag whenever he travels.

Condoms and lube. She never fails him.

‘Fuck sake, Munson. You’re not gonna fuck this guy. Get a grip,’ he scolds himself as he tosses both items into the nightstand drawer, all the while sending a silent prayer of thanks to the goddess who is Chrissy Cunningham.

He’s barely closed the drawer when he hears a soft knock on his door. He steels himself and takes several deep breaths before crossing the room to open the door, finding Steve and the same attendant who just left, this time with another cart which was originally meant for Steve’s room.

This guy is getting such a huge tip.

Steve comes inside and makes himself at home, wandering aimlessly around the space.

“Same as yours?” Eddie asks as he grabs the bottle of Woodford and pours himself a drink. He gestures to Steve to ask if he wants one as well, and Steve nods before taking a seat on the couch.

“Yeah, same configuration. Man, it would be super convenient if this hotel had adjoining rooms, huh?”

“Oh? And you think you’d be able to just come and go as you please, Mr. Harrington? Is that it?” Eddie asks playfully as he hands Steve the glass and takes a seat beside him on the couch. They clink their glasses together in cheers before taking a sip.

“Well, no. Not exactly. Shit, I swear that didn't sound nearly as creepy in my head. Fuck, I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. “No. Not at all, I promise. I kind of like how cocky and self-assured you are. It’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks through lowered lashes.

“Yeah. I mean, you have to know how attractive you are, right? And this whole self-confidence thing is really doing it for me. Probably because it comes across as endearing and not dickish.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Steve replies as he sets his glass on the coffee table and leans back against the cushions.

“Pretty weird turn of events, huh?”

“All this? Yeah. Almost like fate or something.”

“Yeah, almost. Chrissy — that’s my best friend — she threatened to murder me if I didn’t get your phone number. And now here we are. Alone in my hotel room.”

“I think I like this Chrissy. Would she be scandalized to know you’ve let some random man you just met into your hotel room? Who knows what my intentions are, after all.”

“Steve. Come on. There is literally NOBODY who doesn't know what your intentions are. You are not at ALL subtle, for the record. And no, she would not be at all scandalized. Hell, she’d be throwing a party,” Eddie says, laughing as he sips his drink.

“You know, I really wanted to kiss you on that flight earlier,” Steve says as he picks up his drink and traces his fingertips along the pattern in the glass.

“Oh? Is that right?”

Steve nods, licking his lips as he looks Eddie in the eye. “Yeah. I really did.”

“And now?”

“Probably even more so now.”

“What’s stopping you?” Eddie asks as he sets his glass down on the table and turns toward Steve.

Steve grins as he places his glass beside Eddie’s and surges forward, cupping Eddie’s jaw in his (fucking huge!) hands and tilting his face slightly so he can slot their lips together.

The kiss is soft, gentle at first, and Eddie moans softly as Steve licks against the seams of his lips, coaxing them apart. Eddie welcomes him inside, their tongues swirling against one another as the kiss deepens into something more urgent. Hungrier.

Eddie pulls back slightly to catch his breath, grinning as Steve traces his fingertips along Eddie’s cheekbones, mapping out the faint smattering of freckles dotting his complexion.

“Couldn’t believe my luck when I boarded that plane earlier and saw you were seated beside me,” Steve whispers as he places a gentle kiss on each of Eddie’s eyelids.

“Really? Why?”

“I saw you in the gate area. Wanted to strike up a conversation, but by the time I worked up the nerve, we were already boarding. Figured it was a lost opportunity. Or maybe if I was super lucky I’d have a chance to chat you up at baggage claim or something once we landed. But then there you were.”

“There I was,” Eddie whispers as he maneuvers himself into Steve’s lap and rests his forearms on Steve’s shoulders, grinning down at him when Steve gasps in surprise. “This okay?”

Steve nods as he rests his palms on Eddie’s hips to steady him. “More than okay, tiger,” he whispers as he cranes his head upward for another kiss.

“Still with the tiger thing, huh?” Eddie asks, amused. “What’s that all about?”

Steve shrugs, smiling. “Dunno. Just feel like it suits you. Beautiful and wild. Elegant. Clearly you have claws. Could probably tear me apart.”

“Hm. Interesting. Okay, I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it, huh? See what I mean? Claws,” Steve says, laughing softly. “So, tell me, Eddie. Where do you see this going tonight?” He asks, gesturing between them with his index finger, “Because I’ll tell you, I am completely open to whatever you want here. I’m perfectly fine to just hang out and eat those burgers, watch some tv, and maybe kiss you breathless a little bit. But also I am very very interested in doing more. As much ‘more’ as you want, of course. Just say the word and I’ll follow your lead here.”

“I like the sound of that. The kissing me breathless part. The more part. All of it. As for the burger, I’m finding that my appetite has shifted a bit from when I ordered it. But I’m good either way on that front.”

Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s waist and pulls him closer, growling softly. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

“Uh, I think I have some idea. These sweats aren’t leaving a whole lot of room for doubt there. I can feel the idea, actually. And … yeah. I think I get the whole ‘dick falling out’ thing now. Fuck, Steve … you’re fucking huge,” Eddie gasps, rolling his hips to try and get a bit of friction on his own hardening cock.

“Yeah? Well, you feel pretty big yourself, if I do say so,” Steve whispers as he captures Eddie’s lips in another searing kiss. “Tell me — are you a top or bottom? Because I can go either way.”

“Bottom. Definitely bottom. Especially given what I can feel going on down here,” Eddie says with a low chuckle as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from Steve’s forehead and rolls his hips again, eliciting a low moan from the man beneath him. “You gonna show me that pole, Mr. Olympia?”

Steve chuckles as he grips Eddie’s hips tighter. “That’s a new one on me, I have to say. I don’t hate it though. Should we move into the bedroom?”

Eddie nods, biting his lip as he rises from his position and takes Steve’s hand to lead him into the bedroom. Eddie smirks as he thinks of his previous inner musings about not having sex with Steve Harrington.

Shows how much you know, earlier Eddie. Looks like you’re about to get fucked by Steve fucking Harrington. Dumbass.

Steve follows him into the room and steps behind Eddie, the warmth of his body caging him in pleasantly. Eddie feels the press of Steve’s lips at the crown of his head, and smiles warmly as he pulls Steve’s arms around himself, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up tightly.

“Shit,” Steve whispers, pulling back slightly.

“Hm?”

“I don’t suppose you have any lube? Condoms?”

“Top drawer,” Eddie says with a smirk as he cranes his neck to look up a Steve.

“Top drawer? Really?” Steve asks incredulously as he leans down to pull the drawer open. He laughs as he pulls out a strip of condoms and a brand new bottle of lube. “You didn’t unpack your suitcase, but you thought to unpack your lube and condoms? Big plans for your time in Seattle, Ed?”

“Oh shut it,” Eddie scoffs as he smacks Steve playfully on the forearm. “I didn’t even pack those, Chrissy always sneaks some into my suitcase before I go on a trip. When you asked about coming over I found them and put them there. You know, just in case.”

“Just in case. Of course,” Steve laughs. “I think I’m really loving your Chrissy, by the way.”

“She’ll fucking adore you. You’re so much alike it’s actually a little bit frightening.”

“I’ll take the win,” Steve whispers as he turns Eddie to face him, kissing him deeply.

“God …” Eddie gasps when they break the kiss, “I want you fuck me so bad.”

“Good. Mission accomplished, then,” Steve teases as he traces his fingertips along the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, coaxing it upward. “Let’s get this off, what do you say?”

Eddie nods, biting his lip. “You too,” he says, motioning to Steve’s clothes. “I’ve been dying to see you naked since you first sat down on that plane earlier.”

“God, I fucking LOVE how much we have in common!” Steve says with a smile as he joins Eddie in disrobing.

Once they've both undressed, Eddie makes himself comfortable on the bed and crooks a finger in invitation for Steve to join him. He giggles as Steve surges forward to lie on top of him and cage him in, his forearms resting on either side of Eddie’s head.

“So sorry … one moment, please,” Steve says with a wink as he places a soft kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose before shifting around to retrieve the lube and condoms, placing them within arm’s reach on the bed.

“Gonna fuck me, big boy?” Eddie asks coyly, fluttering his eyelashes.

“So much, baby,” Steve replies as he begins trailing kisses along the hinge of Eddie’s jaw before moving lower to suck gently along the column of his throat. Eddie moans with the sensation as Steve begins to trace his fingertips down the center of Eddie’s chest, teasing feather-light touches down to the sensitive patch of skin below his navel.

“Steve … please …”

“Please what, baby?”

“Don’t be such a tease. Want you…”

Eddie gasps as Steve wraps his hand around the base of his cock, gently squeezing before he begins stroking him torturously slowly from root to tip. Steve laughs softly as he reaches for the lube with his free hand, clicking the cap open and squeezing a generous amount into his hand. He allows it to warm briefly before wrapping his now generously lubed palm around Eddie’s shaft, stroking him languidly.

“You know, you are absolutely fucking gorgeous like this. Tell me, baby – what do you want?” Steve asks softly as he bends to press gentle kisses along Eddie’s abdomen, maintaining the pressure and not breaking rhythm as he reaches for the lube once more to squeeze some onto the fingers of his free hand.

“Hnngg… want you. Want you inside, please,” Eddie says as he arches his back and tries to press himself upward into Steve’s touch.

“Hmm, that does sound like fun, doesn’t it?” Steve asks playfully as he reaches lower and circles Eddie’s hole with his now lubed finger, barely dipping his fingertip inside, gently loosening the furl of muscle.

“Yeah. Yeah, sounds like a lot of fu- oh FUCK,” Eddie whines as Steve presses his finger fully inside, gently moving his fingertip in a circular motion.

Fuck, his hands are so big. He’s teasing Eddie’s prostate, but not quite hitting it, making Eddie pant and whine as he tries unsuccessfully to writhe into the touch.

“Come on now baby, be patient” Steve whispers, working a second finger into Eddie’s hole gently and pumping them in and out agonizingly slowly.

Eddie whimpers. “Fuck! Come on, Steve. I want you so badly.”

“Yeah? I want you too, baby boy. Gotta be patient though,” Steve says gently as he continues to massage Eddie from the inside, slowly and carefully working him open. He adds a third finger and Eddie throws his head back, moaning wantonly as Steve finds his prostate and begins stroking him in earnest.

Eddie cries out, panting with the realization that he is absolutely not going to last long at this rate.

“You open up so nicely for me. Fuck … taking three fingers already. I love how relaxed and ready you are for me already.”

Eddie looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and whimpers, already desperate for more. “Fuck. Please Steve. Need you. Want you inside me.”

“You want my cock inside you that badly, baby boy?” Steve asks wickedly as he presses firmly against Eddie’s prostate on his next stroke, making him cry out.

“Fuck! Yes – please!”

“You think you can handle it?”

“Fucking … Yes! Yes, I can handle it,” Eddie moans, panting openly.

“Can’t believe how lucky I am,” Steve coos as he pulls his fingers out and passes a condom to Eddie with a grin. “Open this for me, would you, baby?”

Eddie nods frantically as Steve continues to stroke his cock. He hurriedly opens the condom and holds it out for Steve, his hand trembling.

Steve withdraws his hand from Eddie’s shaft and rolls the condom onto his unfairly large cock, slicking himself with lube as Eddie whines and writhes beneath him. He takes himself in hand and teases the head along the underside of Eddie’s balls, allowing the tip to catch on his rim. He chuckles softly as Eddie bucks his hips to try and force him inside.

“Come on, Steve. Quit teasing and give it to me. Been thinking about you fucking me all day long.”

“Fuck, you make me so fucking crazy, holy shit” Steve says as he adjusts his position above Eddie and slowly begins to push inside. “Fuck … you’re so fucking tight, holy shit.”

The stretch and slow glide of Steve’s cock inside him is like heaven, and Eddie can’t help the little punched-out noises he’s making as Steve works himself inside at an absolutely agonizingly slow pace.

“Oh my god … so fucking big,” he gasps and moans as Steve is finally fully seated, the comforting weight of Steve’s body enveloping him as Steve settles in above him, his arms bracketing Eddie’s head.

“Hi,” Steve says breathlessly as he gently presses a kiss to each of Eddie’s lips in turn, sucking his bottom lip and nibbling gently as he begins to thrust in and out of Eddie’s hole, moaning with every roll of his hips.

“Hi yourself,” Eddie pants as he wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and arches into each thrust, delighting in the feeling of having this man inside him. He’s never felt so full. Steve is filling him so completely. It’s beautiful. Steve is beautiful.

Steve rolls his hips, picking up the pace and eliciting a wanton moan as Eddie feels the drag of his cock against his prostate with each outward stroke. Eddie arches his back and struggles to maintain Steve’s timing and rhythm as he feels an earth-shattering orgasm building at an alarmingly rapid pace.

The pitch of Eddie’s whines and whimpers is growing higher and higher as Steve picks up the pace and fucks him with purpose, his building orgasm threatening to overtake him at any moment as he watches Steve moving above him.

“Steve, baby … I’m so close…”

“Me too. Oh my god, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Let me get you there now, yeah?” Steve whispers, stroking Eddie’s cheek gently as he slows down for a moment. “Take a deep breath for me now, okay?”

Eddie nods and fills his lungs with air, groaning as Steve suddenly leans back, grabbing Eddie around his thighs and pulling him more fully into his lap as he thrusts. He sets a brutal pace, moaning and gasping as he fucks into Eddie with abandon.  

Eddie cries out and sobs loudly as Steve continues to fuck into him, talking him through it as he fucks deeper and deeper inside. “That’s it, baby boy. Take all of it. You’re fucking gorgeous, Eddie. Fuck, baby I’m so close. Want you to come for me now.”

“Oh fuck Steve — I’m gonna come!” Eddie wails, his head thrown back as Steve continues pounding into his prostate.

“Fuck — me too, baby boy. You’re fucking incredible, you know that?”

Eddie whines and cries, nodding as he tries to find the words. “Y-y-you too. Fuck, Steve. Want you to come. Please,” he pants.

Eddie cries out as his orgasm is absolutely wrenched from his body, painting his own chest with ropes of white at the same time that he feels the quivering of Steve’s cock as he reaches his peak inside him. He screams as the aftershocks overtake him and he feels the sting of tears as he struggles to catch his breath.

Steve collapses on top of him, panting as he peppers Eddie’s cheekbones with kisses. They both lie there breathlessly for a moment as they come down, and though Eddie isn’t sure who starts it, they both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“What’re we laughing about?” Steve asks through a giggle.

“Me? Just thinking about the pending brutality of all the ‘I told you so’ texts I’m gonna be getting from Chrissy when I tell her about this.”

“I fucking love this girl,” Steve says as he traces his fingertips along Eddie’s side.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot about her to love. That’s one hell of a pole you’ve got there, Harrington,” Eddie says, still giggling uncontrollably.

“Still doubt it could launch me twenty feet in the air?”

“Not anymore, no.”

“Fuck, I’m starving,” Steve says, smiling into a kiss. “Wanna get cleaned up and eat some cold burgers?”

“I’m gonna say yes to the cleaning up but no to the cold burgers. Let’s just ditch the burgers and order a pizza.”

“Sounds perfect, baby,” Steve says as he gently pulls out and removes the condom, tying it off. He gets up from the bed and extends a hand to help Eddie to his feet. “Lead the way, tiger. Let’s get cleaned up and gorge on some comfort food.”

“Trash tv as well, right?”

“The absolute trashiest,” Steve says through a smile as he leans in for another kiss. “Anything you want.”