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“I’m putting Drag Race on,” Eddie says, and Buck scowls.
Never in his entire damn life did he think he would be arguing against watching Drag Race with Eddie Diaz, but here he is.
“You don’t even— you don’t even like it. I made you watch Drag Race.”
Infuriatingly, Eddie shrugs. “I like it just fine.”
Eddie is lying. Or he’s… he’s playing up his love of Drag Race, a show he’s only ever watched while playing Sudoku on his phone, despite Buck’s insistence that it’s culturally important. Maybe Eddie is homophobic. What he’s doing now is homophobic. He’s denying Buck his bisexual right to forfeit watching Drag Race in favour of Ocean Tales.
He should be texting Hen about this.
Except—this is an argument he can win. He’s sure of it. He will watch his show. Come hell or high water. Preferably high water because—
“Okay,” Buck says flatly. “Well, I love Ocean Tales, and I love the Caribbean, which is where the episode that is airing right now is set. So.”
Eddie, gripping the remote like Buck’s going to leap at him and snatch it, infuriatingly calmly declares, “Drag Race.”
They lock eyes. Buck doesn’t know what comes over him, but he knows suddenly, the way he knows when a building is about to collapse, that he’s going to tackle Eddie.
At once, he’s in motion. He flings himself over to Eddie’s side of the couch, fingers grazing the remote right before Eddie throws his arm in the air and out of reach. Buck does not let this dissuade him. He is a ninja. He is a missile, and he’s locked on the target.
Swaying precariously, trying to avoid kneeing Eddie in the balls (because he’s a gentleman), Buck stretches for the remote.
“Nope,” Eddie chirps, arching his back almost impossibly far over the armrest in an attempt to evade Buck’s expert remote snatching technique.
“Oh my God,” Buck groans, chest vibrating with frustration. “Just hand it over!”
Grinning, Eddie presses his knee to Buck’s stomach, putting a few inches of distance between them.
“I’ve got two little sisters, Buck.” He waggles the remote in his hand, just out of reach. Taunting Buck. Because he’s a bastard. “You’re not winning this.”
Huffing, Buck presses his chest harder against Eddie’s knee, making his leg bend.
“And I’ve got a big sister who was a TV hog.” Buck never won a single fight against Maddie Buckley for the TV remote in his entire life — partly because she still had a handful of inches of height on him when she left, but mostly because Buck is not a natural-born fighter. He’s a lover. That’s none of Eddie’s business. All Eddie needs to know is that Buck means business. He will be watching Ocean Tales. “You’re not winning this.”
Using his size to his advantage, Buck tilts forward, smacking Eddie’s leg to the side and, very subtly, attempting to crush Eddie with his entire body weight. Eddie, whose instincts are similar to a horse, kicks out. Right into Buck’s stomach. A mere few inches above his dick.
Buck falls to the side, against the back of the couch, with an undignified oof. Winded, he shoots Eddie a look he hopes screams betrayal.
Eddie grins, unapologetic. Buck swears he’s wiggling his stupid little toes, preparing to dig his dastardly foot into Buck’s body again. “Oops.”
“That’s it,” Buck heaves, before throwing himself at him. Eddie’s eyes widen a moment before Buck collides with him, throwing the remote to his right, where it skids under the coffee table.
But Buck has gathered too much momentum to change his course now. He’s going to crash into Eddie. He’s going to crash into him hard.
Buck does, in fact, crash into him hard.
“Jesus—” Eddie wheezes, catching Buck by the waist. His hand is so big that it spans the entirety of Buck’s side, from last rib to hipbone. His other hand lands on his chest, right over his left pec, and spasms around a squeeze.
Eddie is squeezing his pec. Buck flung himself at Eddie, essentially tricking him into fondling him.
He’s having his left tit caressed, and Buck needs to— he’s gotta get out of here. He has to escape.
He taps into his earlier momentum and jerks back hard enough to tip himself right off the couch, accidentally dragging Eddie with him, who, despite being the instigator of all of this, squawks like a seagull who has just been viciously double-crossed.
Together, they hit the ground with a thunk. Buck hisses, hands fumbling for something to grab onto, finding purchase on the side of the couch.
Eddie captures him by the wrists before he’s able to haul himself up, dropping his full weight into Buck’s lap with a grunt. He lands hard, knocking the air right out of Buck’s lungs. Catching Buck’s momentary lapse, Eddie shoves Buck’s arms above his head, pinning his hands to the floor.
Buck squirms against the grip, attempting to twist his wrists from Eddie’s iron-firm grip.
He is deeply unsuccessful. Eddie’s fingers curl harder, digging in a little to Buck’s wristbones.
Grinning, Eddie says, “Say uncle.”
Panting, Buck stares up at him. He will not be defeated. Eddie Diaz will not reign victorious. Clenching his fists, Buck wraps his legs around Eddie’s middle and rolls.
They collide with the coffee table, both hissing at the impact, but Eddie doesn’t let up. Instead, he executes some sort of annoyingly impressive grappling manoeuvre and lays Buck flat on his back again with his feet tucked under Buck’s legs, his calves tensed. His hands find Buck’s wrists again, pinning them against the rug, the fibres of it harsh against his skin.
Puffing up his chest, Buck wriggles wormily, trying to imitate a snake. Snakes are good at freeing themselves from tight spaces. Not that Eddie’s a tight space, he’s just—he’s really got a hold of him. He does Muay Thai, for crying out loud. That’s a deeply unfair advantage.
“You’re cheating,” Buck accuses.
“I’m winning,” Eddie pants, looking far too smug.
“I’m—” Buck tries to tug his arms free from Eddie’s hold to no avail. How is Eddie so damn strong? Buck is like— double his size. Triple even. On a good day. “I’m letting you.”
“You’re letting me pin you down?” Eddie raises an eyebrow, thighs tensing again. “Do you like getting your ass handed to you, Buck?”
Heat floods Buck’s gut. He does like getting his ass handed to him. Or—no, well… he likes being pinned, or thrown against walls, or–or floors. But that’s different. That’s a sex thing. This is definitely not a sex thing. This is a bro thing. They’re bro-wrestling. Bro-housing. This is the most platonic thing Buck’s done in his entire life. He doesn’t know why he’s sweating.
Channelling his inner carpet python, he gives a determined wriggle, but Eddie’s hands tighten around his wrists. The feeling sends a shock through Buck’s spinal column.
Oh no.
Eddie, breathless and beautiful above him, repeats, “Say uncle.”
Breath stuttering out of him, Buck freezes.
Oh no. No, no, no, he’s—
He’s getting hard. This is doing it for him. Roughhousing with Eddie is catching the interest of Buck’s very traitorous, over-eager friend down south.
Use your head, Buck thinks. His dick twitches. Then, panicked, the big one.
Keeping very still, Buck averts his gaze. He can’t look at Eddie. Not when Eddie looks like—that. Flushed and panting, eyes bright and focused. He’s grinning too, canines glinting in the low light. He wonders if this is what Eddie looked like when he was throwing punches in his cage matches back in the day—if he had this confidence, this undeniable aura.
Or maybe this is different—maybe this is what Eddie looks like when he’s having sex. Really athletic sex, leaving his cheeks flushed, body tensed, muscles working—
No. No, no, no. He is not going to think about that. That is not helping his… situation in the slightest. Not because— it’s not because it’s Eddie. Buck just likes sex. Athletic sex especially! Buck loves it when his Fitbit thinks he’s having a cardio workout during sex.
Think unsexy thoughts, he tells himself. Then, Eddie raises a challenging brow, his forehead creasing with it, a single droplet of sweat gliding down his cheek.
Oh, God. Buck is definitely half-hard. Maybe three-fifths hard.
He’s going to embarrass himself to death. He’s going to pop a real-life erection and start leaking, and Eddie’s going to see it. How the hell would he come back from that?
Eddie’s hovering over him now, but if he lowers himself an inch or two, he’s going to feel it. He’s going to know Buck’s getting hard, that he’s at half-mast already.
He should have known. Back in high school, Buck knew better. He would only wrestle with his friends on the football team in very short increments because the adrenaline just… does something to him. When he was still a probie, Buck had to take cold showers after really intense calls. He’d complete a daring rescue, and on the ride back to the station, there would be undeniable movement in his pants. It was horrifying every time. It’s not like he ever actually got off on it—and he doesn’t ever get hard on the job anymore, but—but there was a time when that wasn’t the case. There was a time when he had to take a lot of well-timed, very cold showers.
He’s starting to think now that he’s redefining what it means to be an adrenaline junkie.
I’m just pent up, he tells himself firmly. I’m pent up, and there’s a man on top of me. That’s all. I need to jerk off more.
He does masturbate regularly. Once a day at least, around the same time, almost on a schedule. It’s not—routine, per se; he just needs to clear his pipes periodically. Otherwise, he goes a little crazy, which was proven very thoroughly one fateful November years ago when he was preparing to donate his sperm and ended up running several blocks just to come inside a cup (a cup that had ended up overflowing, which had been mildly harrowing).
“N-no,” Buck stutters, head spinning. “I just know you’re a sore loser.”
Eddie scoffs. He adjusts his grip, now pinning both of Buck’s wrists with one hand. Buck tries to escape again, but is thwarted by Eddie’s giant hand. Seriously, how big are this guy's hands?
Pleased with his own show of strength, Eddie grins, sliding Buck’s arms up a little higher, eyeing his biceps. “All that muscle, Buckley, but no skill.”
Buck is going to kick his ass. Buck is a lover, but today, he will fight to the death.
“I’ll show you skill.”
With sheer determination, Buck manages to tear one arm free to reach beneath the coffee table for the remote — the goddamn thing that got them into this mess to begin with — but Eddie captures his forearm right as his fingers skim the plastic and pins it in place against the rug. Again.
A small, pathetic noise slips from Buck’s mouth.
“C’mon, Buck,” Eddie coaxes, voice distractingly low, skimming the edge of teasing. “Thought you could take me.”
He didn’t— what is happening? What on Earth is happening? Is Buck alive? How does Eddie remember that? “I’m trying to watch Ocean Tales, Eddie, not— not go for the title.”
Eddie’s thumb traces a small circle over the inside of Buck’s wrist. The touch is so tender, a stark contrast to the iron-hard flexing of his fingers. Buck, against his will, shivers.
“So,” Eddie goads, “you’re conceding."
“I’m—” Hard. Hard. Hard. So hard. Oh, God. “I’m reenergising.”
Laughing breathily, Eddie drops himself onto Buck’s lap. Right on top of Buck’s dick. Buck’s unmistakably mostly-chubbed-up dick.
Cold dread washes over him.
Eddie’s eyes widen, just slightly, and every organ in Buck’s body squirms. Eddie must be able to feel it—feel that he’s pressed against Buck’s boner, which is very rapidly leaving half-mast territory and teetering into full erection zone.
Then, very slowly, Eddie moves his hips in a small circle—as if to confirm said boner. As if the thick head of Buck’s cock jutting against his ass wasn’t evidence enough.
Buck gasps, face flushing. He squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if he can’t see Eddie, his boner will surrender to his pleas and go the hell away. “S-sorry.”
“Buck.” Eddie’s voice is so soft. He doesn’t even sound mad. He absolutely should be mad.
“Eddie, ‘m— I didn’t mean to.” Buck tries to angle his hips away, but Eddie’s weight is pinning them in place. “It’s— it’s the adrenaline.”
It feels like a sloppy excuse now.
“Yeah?” Eddie’s voice is so, so soft. Just the life-ruining side of rough. “Adrenaline gets you hard, Buck?”
Wordlessly, Buck nods.
“You’re in the wrong line of work, pal.”
Buck never minds it when Eddie teases him. It’s familiar, and fun, and them. But he really wishes Eddie would do it from somewhere else. The couch, at least. But Eddie is firmly in Buck’s lap, sitting on the very thing that’s gotten Buck in trouble a million times: his stupid dick.
“E-Eddie, come on, man,” Buck croaks, heart pounding.
Hips shifting, Eddie bears his weight down just a little more. “Open your eyes.”
He can’t. He can’t look at Eddie. That will make the situation worse, and then he’ll have to deal with the fact that looking at his best friend makes him hard, and that’s not something he’s willing to come to terms with when he’s horizontal on Eddie’s living room floor. That is his sister’s kitchen revelation territory. Not here. Not now.
Stubbornly squeezing his eyes shut tighter, he mumbles, “No.”
“Buck.” Eddie shifts his hips again, and Buck has to clench his jaw against the onslaught of sensation. He’s sensitive on a good day—this, having his dick stimulated by Eddie’s ass, is akin to being body-slammed.
“No,” Buck reiterates, voice shaky. “I can’t.”
“Because of the adrenaline?” Eddie asks, stilling. “It’s glued your eyes closed?”
Buck swallows thickly. “Sure.”
“Buck,” Eddie says, voice firmer.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Buck whines. “I’m very vulnerable right now.”
Hand loosening around Buck’s arms, Eddie exhales. “Please open your eyes.”
“I–Eddie—” Buck furrows his eyebrows, but he’s helpless to ignore Eddie. Eddie could tell him to jump, and ultimately, after whining and complaining about it a little, he’d ask how high.
Obediently, his eyelids flutter open.
Eddie’s eyes fly up to meet Buck’s gaze, and Buck flushes. Had Eddie been staring at his boner up until now? God, Buck can’t even—he can’t look down. He locks his gaze on Eddie’s face.
“Eddie,” Buck says, not really sure what he’s trying to say.
Cheeks ruddy, Eddie asks, “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
Slowly, Eddie guides Buck’s hand down, settling it against his own lap, over the — holy shit — the firm shape of his dick. Eddie’s hard dick. Buck’s breath catches in his throat.
“Oh,” Buck breathes, eyes widening when Eddie’s dick twitches against his hand. He can’t let himself look down yet. He can’t see Eddie’s boner. There’s no going back from that.
Eddie swallows. “Yeah.”
Blinking up at him, Buck, like an idiot, says, “You’re hard.”
“Very.”
“Adrenaline?”
“No.” Eddie’s eyes stay locked on Buck’s, dark and steady. “Because of you.”
Faintly, Buck hears himself say, “Oh. Right.”
“Is that…” Eddie looks unsure now, uncertainty tugging his brows together. He starts retracting his hand, letting go of Buck’s wrist so he’s no longer holding it against his erection. “Sorr—”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Buck rushes out, his racing heart tripling in speed. It feels like a herd of horses are thumping their hooves against his breastbone. “I’m recalibrating. You’re flipping my world. Give me thirty seconds.”
Eddie studies him for a beat—then, his shoulders sag a little, the corner of his mouth turning upward. “You got it.”
Buck takes his rightfully earned thirty seconds of processing time. This does kind of change everything for Buck, realistically, but he’s not really sure he’s got time to fully break down his crisis over Eddie’s sexuality, the line between friendship and intimacy, and what this could mean for them while his dick is twitching against Eddie’s ass.
He can handle this. He’s an adult. Buck’s an adult, and he’s got a boner, and a hot best friend (that he’s maybe in love with?) that is sitting in his lap. He can go with the flow. He can be the kind of guy who goes with the flow. He doesn’t need to overthink this. He’s so got this.
Nodding jerkily, Buck finally manages a soft, “Okay.”
Eddie runs his hand down Buck’s sweat-damp forearm. “You’re good?”
“Yeah,” Buck says. “‘M hard.”
Eddie grins, planting a hand beside Buck’s head and rolling his hips in a lazy grind. “I noticed.”
“You’re grinding on me,” Buck breathes out. “On purpose.”
“Yeah.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down to Buck’s mouth, watching as they part on a shaky breath. Eddie licks his lips.
Holy shit.
“You look like you want to kiss me.”
“I do,” Eddie tells him. “I’m gonna.”
“Right,” Buck breathes. “Hot.”
Eddie’s expression softens, his mouth curling into a smile—it’s a little crooked, arousal creeping into the curve of it, but it looks—fond. Sweet. Adoring. Buck’s heart dips in his chest, blood rushing.
Hand finding Buck’s cheek, Eddie leans the last short distance brushing their mouths together. He pauses there—one beat, then two. Waiting. Letting Buck pull away if he wants to. Instead, Buck lifts a trembling hand, settling it at Eddie’s waist, gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline. Buck swears he can feel the shift of air as Eddie’s face splits into a grin.
Then—with bone-splitting tenderness—Eddie kisses him.
Against his own, Eddie’s lips are so, so soft. Just as soft as he always thought they’d be. Not that he thought about it too much, obviously, just a respectable amount. A previously thought to be platonic amount.
Kissing Eddie unfurls something in his chest, shooting tiny electrical pulses through his nerves, making him feel raw. This is real. It’s happening.
It’s impossible to wrap his head around. Eddie’s kissing him. On purpose. On the mouth.
Buck feels like a computer that had all its wires ripped out, then shoved in randomly. He’s still catching up. He’d feel bad, except Eddie is kissing him so enthusiastically and sweetly that he’s putting Buck’s eagerness to shame, which has never happened in Buck’s entire life before.
“This okay?” Eddie whispers, lips grazing Buck’s as he readjusts, rolling his hips forward tentatively.
Nothing has ever been more okay.
Breathless, Buck pulls him closer, nodding enough that his nose knocks against Eddie’s cheek. “Fuck. Yeah. Please.”
Thumb grazing Buck’s thigh, Eddie laughs softly. He rolls his hips again, this time confidently. Buck sucks in a breath and tries not to think, tries to let himself have this. If only for now.
“Like this.” Buck slips a hand around Eddie’s thigh, pushing until Eddie lets it slip between Buck’s legs.
Pressing his leg against the jut of Buck’s dick, Eddie huffs a laugh. “You want me to hump you like a dog?”
Buck full-body flushes. Whether it’s the condescending way Eddie says it or the words themselves that do it for him, Buck doesn’t know. He shudders, flexing his dick against the meat of Eddie’s thigh before he catches himself, face burning.
He looks back up at Eddie’s face. Sees the moment his pupils dilate.
“Yeah?” Eddie says softly. “That what you want?”
Fuck. He doesn’t know what’s happening right now, knows only that he’s—he’s horny, and he wants this. He wants Eddie. He can’t think, head hazy like someone’s dropped a smokebomb in there, in the cavern he’s pretty sure used to house his brain.
What slips out, in the end, is a pathetic, “Please.”
Apparently, that’s what Eddie was looking for. Eddie curses under his breath, nodding shortly and complying.
Buck’s spine feels—soft. Pliable. His whole body feels malleable to Eddie’s every touch as he falls into motion, hips rocking forward and—
“Fuck,” Buck grinds out, head tilting back. “You’re so fucking hard. Holy shit.”
Breathlessly, Eddie says, “I know. It’s your fault.”
“H-Happily taking credit for—” Buck’s sentence is cut off by the head of his cock squeezing particularly firmly against Eddie’s thigh, shockwaves of pleasure crashing through Buck’s body. “Holy fuck.”
“Yeah?” Eddie dips closer, breath hot against Buck’s mouth. “Like that? I’ve never—”
“Like that,” Buck manages, nodding. Hand lifting, he skims his fingers along Eddie’s arm, then finds the side of his neck. “You’ve never humped like desperate teenagers? That’s–”
Scoffing, Eddie shoves his thigh harder against Buck’s cock, dragging what is undeniably a mewl out of him.
“I’ve dry humped, Buck. Mostly in the back of my dad’s truck when I was eighteen. I meant—” Voice fraying, he pauses, watching where their bodies connect as he rolls his hips in delicious little circles, grinding their bodies together perfectly. “Like this.”
With a man, Buck’s mind fills in.
“I could jerk you off,” Buck rasps. There is so much they could do, actually. He could blow Eddie, or teach him how to finger him. He can feel Eddie’s hand against his skin now, his thick, long fingers, and can imagine how they’d— fuck. How they’d stretch him out, how they’d fill him up. He thinks he might pass out.
Eddie rolls his hips again, grinding desperately against Buck’s body.
“No,” Eddie says, mouth grazing his jaw. “No, like this is—good.”
Swallowing a moan, Buck asks, “Are you sure? I can–”
“Buck, if you stop, I’m going to lose my—” Eddie inhales sharply. “Just don’t stop. Kiss me.”
“Eddie, I just– I could—”
“You could be kissing me right now,” Eddie says, and Buck realises all at once he’s been a fool.
He tilts his head, capturing Eddie’s damp mouth in a kiss. He licks into him, sucking in a breath through his nose when Eddie surges forward, knocking their noses together.
“Didn’t—” Buck says against his lips. “Didn’t know you’d be like this.”
Pressing his forehead to Buck’s, Eddie grins. “Guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Heart flipping, Buck steals another quick kiss from him. “Didn’t know you liked men.”
Grinding his hips into a delicious, tight circle, Eddie grunts. “Can I come out after I make you come, please?”
“Oh, fuck.” His stomach does four somersaults consecutively. “Yeah. Yes. Whatever—whatever you want.”
“You,” Eddie exhales. “Just you.”
Driven by instinct and heretofore unseen levels of arousal, Buck grabs Eddie’s waist and flips them, narrowly missing the table. Eddie stares up at him, chest heaving, before he starts to smile. A low, ridiculously fond laugh escapes Buck in answer.
The moment his dick finds Eddie’s inner thigh, though, he has to bite his lip to keep from making noise. This part, taking initiative during sex, has always come naturally to him. He’s good at this, at reading his partners and prioritising their pleasure while still making himself feel good.
This, he realises suddenly, is not the case right now.
He slots his leg between Eddie’s, shivering at the feel of him hot and hard against his thigh, before he starts moving. But he’s not moving right, hips refusing to cooperate. He leans down, resting his weight on his left elbow as he nuzzles Eddie’s cheek, hips moving jerkily, providing jagged, intervallic moments of pleasure.
“Sorry,” he pants, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Eddie’s temple. He slows his hips, focusing hard on finding a rhythm.
It lasts for all of ten seconds. Maybe nine. He’ll be generous to himself and call it ten.
His body is moving entirely on its own, pleasure-seeking and entirely indifferent to Buck’s commands. Slipping a hand under Eddie’s shirt and splaying his fingers over his stomach, Buck groans.
“That the best you got?” Eddie pants, challenging but not mocking.
“‘M trying,” Buck gasps. His hips lurch, jolting Eddie’s body against the floorboards. “Fuck, sorry, sorry—”
“Buck,” Eddie breathes.
Ducking his head into the sweat-damp crook of Eddie’s neck, heaving for breath, Buck whimpers.
He can’t find a rhythm; it feels too good. There is no finesse to the way his hips jerk forward—his body wants to fuck, wants to plunge into Eddie and rut, but that’s not what’s happening. It’s all too erratic, his body driven forward by pure, overwhelming need.
Eddie’s hand finds Buck’s head, fingers gripping his curls. He tugs until Buck lifts his head. “Can’t focus, bud?”
Exhaling shakily, Buck shakes his head. He tries to still, but his hips keep twitching forward. It’s a softer glide now, the head of his cock slipping through a pool of pre-come.
“Feels too—feels too good. God, Eddie, it feels so fucking good,” Buck tries to explain, and Eddie’s face morphs into something sympathetic. He ducks his head. “Can you—”
Tucking his knuckles beneath Buck’s chin, Eddie tilts his head back up. “Can I…?”
Buck’s breath stumbles. “Eddie.”
“Can I do it for you?” Eddie murmurs. “That what you want?”
Pitifully, Buck whimpers, nodding.
“Say it,” Eddie demands gently, “I wanna hear you say it, Buck.”
“Fucking— please. Please. F-Fuck. I don’t know.” Buck’s voice cracks, his eyes closed tightly as he tries to clear his head. Then, soft, desperate, pleading, “Make me come. Please. I wanna come.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie soothes, his free hand sliding over Buck’s side. Easily, he hooks his legs around Buck, hand steady at his hip as he rolls them again, never letting their bodies separate more than an inch or so. “I got you. I got it.”
Reaching between them, Eddie squeezes Buck’s cock, thumb grazing the wet head through his shorts.
“You’re packing serious heat, Buck,” Eddie murmurs, letting go of him. He lifts his hand, pressing his wet thumb to Buck’s bottom lip. “And you don’t even know how to use it, huh?”
Buck sucks in a ragged breath. “I— Fuck. I do. I do—”
“Shh,” Eddie hushes. “It’s okay. I’ll use it for you, yeah?”
“Fuck, Eddie.” Buck arches his back, keening. “Use it. Use—me.”
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, clutching Buck’s waist as he peers down, watching his own cock stretch the fabric of his sweatpants as he grinds against Buck. Buck understands. It’s maybe the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“Just gonna,” Eddie starts, letting the rest of his sentence die as his hips jerk forward. His cock knocks against Buck’s, eliciting a gasp from him.
“Yeah,” Eddie pants, half-lidded eyes finding Buck’s again. Not looking away, he grinds down again, his hard length pressed to Buck’s. He sets a faster tempo now, hips working quick and dirty like he’s almost there, like he’s chasing his orgasm, eyes never once leaving Buck’s face.
And Buck’s going to let it happen. He’s going to let Eddie hump him to completion, and he’s going to get off on it, too. Because this is something that happens to him now.
A broken whimper slips out of Buck, and Eddie’s hips stutter forward, his mouth falling open around a ruined groan. Like this, pressing Buck into the floor as he pants, grinding his cock relentlessly against Buck’s, it’s almost like he’s fucking him for real. Buck’s brain latches onto the thought, memorising the look on Eddie’s face. Eddie would look just like this, flushed and heaving, if he were fucking Buck against a mattress. If he had Buck’s legs around his waist, and his dick pumping into him, he’d— holy fuck. He’s so close.
Buck’s cock blurts pre-come, pleasure licking up his spine. He moans, hips twitching the way they would if he were matching Eddie thrust for thrust, if he wanted to encourage Eddie get deeper, to fuck him harder. “I’m gonna— h-holy shit. I’m gonna—”
“You gonna come for me?” Eddie slurs, his forehead pressing against Buck’s cheek.
Buck feels like he might come undone just from the sound of Eddie’s voice. He’s pretty sure that Eddie could talk him to the point of a hands-free orgasm if he used this tone. Buck’s throat works uselessly, his mind fuzzy around the edges. “Ed–Eddie—”
“Yeah, c’mon,” Eddie coaxes, softer now. “Come for me, Buck. I got you.”
“Eddie, I–I’m…” Buck’s throat tightens, his sentence cut off as his body locks up, every nerve sparking at once. It feels like his entire body is vibrating. “Holy shit, holy shit, I’m— I’m coming.”
Eddie says something else, Buck’s sure of it, but can’t hear it. Everything fades away, narrowing down to an insistent ringing in his ears, pleasure, heat and— and Eddie. Just Eddie. Eddie’s body, Eddie’s warmth, Eddie’s cock, Eddie’s everything.
The dam breaks. Buck’s core tenses hard, muscles fluttering, coiling as pleasure rushes through him, overwhelming and euphoric.
“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
His body curves, words dissolving into a helpless string of uh, uh, uh’s. All at once, every muscle in his body goes loose. He doesn’t move, just lets Eddie rock against his cock as it twitches and pulses. He’s coming in his shorts, and it feels endless—the sensation, the orgasm, all of it. His eyes squeeze shut, his hearing dull and distant, and Eddie’s— fuck. He’s still right there. Still moving against him, eager and desperate, drawing this out till Buck has nothing left to give.
“There you— fuck, there you go, baby, just like that,” Eddie whispers, his voice coming back into focus. He sounds wrecked. “Gonna—”
Eddie’s going to come. He’s going to come grinding against Buck’s oversensitive, still-twitching cock. Buck is— well, he’s not much help right now. His body is buzzing, the post-orgasm bliss rendering his limbs about as useful as cement blocks. Despite this, he lifts a hand, curving it around Eddie’s jaw and pulling him into a heated, open-mouthed kiss.
Groaning into Buck’s mouth, Eddie tenses. He’s shaking above him. Buck’s not even sure how he’s keeping himself upright, or if he’s just using Buck’s bulk to keep himself propped up enough to grind against him.
“Come on, Eddie,” Buck mumbles, words slurred and muffled against Eddie’s mouth, who’s huffing and panting like a dog. “Come on me. Please. I wanna … fuck. I wanna see. Please.”
A wounded, desperate moan tears out of Eddie, body shuddering as he presses down, down, down, driving into Buck’s hip as his cock jerks. His come seeps through the thin cotton of his sweats, smearing into Buck’s shorts. It’s so filthy. It’s so hot. Buck wants to clean it up with his mouth. He would offer, too, if he weren’t a pile of bones and red-raw nerves.
Buck keeps a hand on Eddie’s back, focusing on his rapid heartbeat as he slowly comes to a still. Breathing unevenly, Eddie tips weakly to the side, flopping down onto the floor.
“Wow,” Buck pants.
Eddie snorts. Hoarsely, he echoes, “Wow.”
Sticky-skinned and zapped of all energy, Buck melts against the floorboards. A part of him wants to curl in and press his face to the warm crook of Eddie’s neck and live there, but another part of him doesn’t know if it’s allowed. He doesn’t know where the line is anymore.
He stares at the ceiling for a beat. Fuck. He just fucked his best friend. Kind of. It was a sexual experience. He just had a sexual experience with Eddie.
Eddie, who has never fucked a man before.
Eddie, who must be freaking out way more than Buck is.
“So. That, um.” Buck swallows, stealing a glance at Eddie’s side profile. His eyes are closed. “That happened.”
Eddie’s mouth twitches, a snort escaping him. Buck opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by a loud, joyful cackle. Eddie’s cackling, clutching his chest, and he seems unable to stop.
“Eddie,” Buck tries, starting to smile despite the panic still stirring in his chest. Eddie keeps laughing, and then, suddenly, Buck’s laughing too. “Eddie, we—we came in our pants.”
“We came in our pants,” Eddie wheezes, rolling over and pressing his face to Buck’s pec. It’s nice. It’s so nice. Buck wishes they could stay here forever.
“We’re in our mid-thirties.”
Another bout of laughter overtakes Eddie. “We are.”
“And you—” Buck pokes Eddie’s arm. “You haven’t even come out to me!”
Poking him right back, Eddie pushes himself up on an elbow, hovering over him. “Kind of feel like my boner did it for me. Or… well, your boner did first. Very flattering, by the way.”
Buck’s mouth drops open. “Eddie!”
Eddie grins, ducking his head. Then, inhaling, he drags his head back up, looking Buck in the eye. “I’m gay. I liked doing—that with you. I want to do it again.”
Buck blinks. Blinks again. “You want to have sex with me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Eddie stares at him, unimpressed.
“You’re sure,” Buck surmises.
Eddie smiles again, wiping a hand over his sweat-damp face before dropping it back against the floor.
Eddie looks so different like this. His features are lax, joy lifting the apples of his cheeks high. Buck feels lucky to get to witness him here, blissed out and joyful.
“You, um,” Buck begins, because he’s never been able to let anything lie in his life, “You want to have sex with… with men in general? Other men?”
Eddie levels him with a look. “Buck.”
“It’s— it’s okay,” Buck says quickly. “If you do. I—”
“I don’t want to fuck anyone else,” Eddie interrupts.
A swarm of butterflies erupt in Buck’s stomach. “Just me.”
Eddie tilts his head in a short nod. “Just you.”
“As friends?” Buck asks weakly.
Clearly amused, Eddie says, “No.”
Breath leaving him in a whoosh, Buck nods. “Okay. Cool.”
“As lovers,” Eddie says.
“That’s gross,” Buck says, privately delighted. “Not that.”
“Didn’t know you were so picky.” Eddie tugs gently at a lock of Buck’s hair, eyes darting all over his face. “What about boyfriends? Fiances? Husbands? What works for you?”
Buck’s heart trips over itself. “E-Eddie,” he chokes. “You—you can’t—”
“Okay, fine,” Eddie says. “Boyfriends for now. Husbands later.”
Buck is going to pass out. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t already. Thankfully, the floor is right there, ready to catch him.
“Right,” Buck squeaks. “Great.”
“Great.” Eddie pecks Buck’s slack mouth. “Can we shower? My dick feels gross.”
Buck blinks. “Together?”
“As long as you promise not to get too handsy.”
“You— you’re the one who put my hand on your dick!”
Eddie bites his lip. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t get handsy.”
“You’re a pervert, Eddie.”
“Maybe,” Eddie murmurs, leaning in. “But you like me.”
I love you, Buck thinks. It almost rushes out of him. He manages to catch it between his teeth, swallowing it back down. Just for now. He realises, suddenly, that he doesn’t need to say it. Not yet. He wants to do this right. To say it when they’re watching the waves crash at the beach before sunset, or warm in bed with the shine of the sun streaming in through the window.
He doesn’t feel the need to cling.
Eddie’s right there. Eddie—despite everything—will always be right there.
And he knows, when he does say it, Eddie will look at him the way he is now, adoringly with little cartoon hearts floating around his head, and say it back.
He can’t wait.
“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling contentedly. “I like you.”