Actions

Work Header

such a heavenly way

Work Text:

Steve stares down from his position on Eddie’s hips, utterly frozen. He’d been pleased with himself for all of a second, having gotten himself here, winning their little grapple; but that was as far as his intent had taken him. He has no clue where to go now.

He’s unfamiliar with this feeling. He hasn’t felt this fumbling and new at sex since his first time; and even then, he’d been young and full of the images from his dad’s porno mags he’d swiped, far too ignorant to be aware of what he lacked, and more than capable of making up for it in sheer brazen confidence.

He doesn’t feel so confident now. Not when Eddie is looking up at him with those big brown eyes, crinkling at the corners like he’s amused, waiting for Steve to follow through. Not when he knows Eddie probably knows exactly what the hell he’s doing, when for Steve, this is unfamiliar territory.

His hesitation is just long enough that Eddie takes advantage, and reverses their positions. Steve grunts, a little frustrated over wasting his hard won opportunity, but it’s not like this way isn’t good, too. It’s just…new.

Steve’s been with forward women before, once or twice; he knows what a more dominant partner is like (hell, Nancy had the full say of absolutely everything they’d done together.) But even then, there’d been a level of control he’d had. But now, laying back, Eddie’s hands on his wrists, pinned under his weight, Steve feels for the first time he has no control over anything at all. He doesn’t know what’s going to come next, what Eddie might do.

It’s a little unnerving. It’s a lot exciting. Steve licks his lips as Eddie stares them down, intense and piercing, but not moving.

 

“You going to kiss me, Munson?” Steve snaps, mouth curling up at the edges to bely his tone; anticipation courses through him, igniting where Eddie’s thighs press to skin, right where his shirt is rucked up and his pants are riding low.

 

Eddie hums. “Thinkin’ about it, Harrington. I dunno, I’m kind of enjoying the view.”

 

His grip on his wrists transfers to just one hand, so he can take the right one and trail his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip.

 

“Kind of can’t believe you’re really here. King Stevie, in my bed, letting me do what I want.”

 

And, hell, Steve really hadn’t been intending on letting Eddie do whatever he wanted, not when he was so unsure of everything, feeling shaky as a newborn colt; but the way Eddie says it…so full of awe, like Steve is some sort of prize. Like maybe he was the dream, even to a guy like Eddie. It does something, the point of contact on his lip feeling like molten lava that drips right down into his gut.

Steve’s heightened interest makes itself known where Eddie is seated on him, and that spawns a truly wicked grin, as he wriggles back against Steve’s steadily growing hardness; a firm, circular motion that feels fucking amazing even through both of their jeans.

Steve groans gutterally, surprised, and his mouth falls open. Eddie’s thumb dips inside, wrenching his jaw open wider.

 

“God, you even sound pretty,” Eddie all but whispers, right in his ear, and fuck, that sends waves of electricity right down his spine.

 

“You’re the pretty one,” Steve chokes back, because he’s never liked the sound of his own voice and hey, this is usually his game, and he’s good at it. Usually.

 

Eddie stills, though. The pressure recedes, along with his thumb.

 

“What?” His inhale is stilted, like he’d truly been taken off guard.

 

“What?” Steve parrots back, thoroughly confused. “You can say it, but I can’t?”

 

“I-“ Eddie fidgets, hands thrown askance, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not - you don’t-“

 

Steve snorts incredulously. “You can’t seriously be telling me no one has ever told you that before, c’mon, man.”

 

Eddie’s face twists. “Are you making fun of me?”

 

“What?” Steve props himself up. “Of course not, what the fuck?”

 

“You know who I am, Steve, why on earth would anybody-“

 

“Because it’s true!” Steve interrupts him, a little frustrated. He immediately feels bad about cutting him off and raising his voice, because Eddie’s mouth is opening and closing like a fish. 

 

“You know,” Steve insists, still. “Literally anybody else you’ve been with must have said something , because like,” He gestures to Eddie, head to hip. “You look like this.”

 

Eddie’s floundering stops so he can level a new look Steve’s way, one that says he thinks Steve is a marble short of a whole set.

 

“Yes,” He agrees, drawing out the S in a short hiss. “I look like me. The satanic, metalhead queer from hell. People are just lining out the door for a piece of this.” 

 

Steve huffs out a breath of air harshly, annoyed because he knows it’s true; for some godforsaken reason, the people of this town have never really liked Eddie at all.

He’d been one of them, once, quick to judge a loud-mouth nerd by his cover and his social status, but even then…even then, he thinks, he’d noticed those eyes, and how they stood out. He was never blind, even if he didn’t always know how to interpret the noticing.

And if nobody else had ever noticed, too blinded by their prejudice?

 

“Well, fuck all of them,” He finds himself saying. “My opinion is the important one in this situation, I think; and that is that you, Eddie Munson,” He draws himself forward, closing the distance Eddie had put between them, “Are a fucking catch.”

 

Eddie looks like a startled animal, unsure if he ought to bolt or not, but there’s color rising in his cheeks, and he lets Steve diminish the remaining space. 

 

“I like your hair,” He twines his hands into the layers of curls, electing to go for the full, vulnerable truth. “I’ve always loved hair, but I especially like yours. I like your eyes, expressive and open, particularly when they’re looking at me.”

 

He punctuates this by pressing his forehead against Eddie’s, so his wide-blown gaze can’t land anywhere else.

 

“I like your mouth. Even when you’re obnoxious and loud, because it means you’re happy, and that looks good on you. When you smile, it lights up your whole face in a way that I can’t look away from. Which sucks, really, because it means I’m just staring at your mouth and wishing. Wishing, when all I can think about is-” He ducks in for a kiss, quick and chaste, but it makes his point. “-and there’s nothing I can do about it, except stare a little more. It’s unbearable, Munson, because you’re pretty, and as much as I enjoy looking, that’s not enough for me.”

 

Eddie looks dazed, his eyes out of focus, and he sways, like he wants to follow Steve’s kiss, draw him back; so Steve does it, ducking in and opening up more, and Eddie meets him, hungry.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie pants against his mouth. “I always thought the rumors about the Harrington charm were full of it, but damn.”

 

Steve laughs, short and breathy. “It can’t seriously just be me. Has no one else ever…?”

 

Eddie’s brow furrows. “I mean, it’s not like blind hookups in grungy bar bathrooms require romantic overtures. I’ve never really,” He gestures between them, “You know, outside of a couple of strangers, a few times. Mostly around my age, all of us curious and trying to figure our shit out without any expectations or awkward conversations afterward we weren’t equipped to handle, especially if someone changed their mind in the light of day.”

 

Steve gapes. “That’s crazy.”

 

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “It’s a different scene, Harrington. It’s not like you’re any stranger to one night stands, if the rumors are to be believed-“

 

“No,” Steve interjects. “That’s not what I…I’m not judging you. I just literally cannot imagine hooking up with you and not immediately getting infatuated.”

 

His face heats the second the words are out of his mouth, but, well…it’s not like they aren’t true. It didn’t even have to go that far for it to happen with him.

 

Eddie blinks, like he doesn’t process what Steve’s said for a whole ten seconds, before his face slowly begins to light up like the Rockefeller tree at christmas.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, Stevie, I’d say that sounds like a confession.

 

It probably is meant to sound smug, gloating in that way Eddie likes to play up any time Steve does something even minorly uncool, just to rile him up and pick a fight for fun, but it doesn’t quite. It sounds too breathlessly happy for Steve to feel even a little bit embarrassed about being caught out like that.

 

“Shit, what gave me away?” 

 

Eddie laughs, bright eyed and wide mouthed, leaning in. “Steve Harrington liiiiikes me. He has the biggest, most humiliating crush.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, unable to quell his matching grin, “So what are you going to do about it?”

 

The fact that Steve went with it, didn’t bristle at the teasing, that blows Eddie’s eyes even wider, his smile a little bigger, and he pushes Steve right back down where he had him before with new fervor.

His mouth finds Steve’s, warm and excited and messy, and Steve matches him in his energy, but refines it a little, guiding it how he wants, deeper and slightly more filthy, purposeful rather than tinged with impatience.

Eddie moans. It’s not a muffled, choked back thing, buried under self consciousness like Steve’s might’ve been; it’s high and keening and honest, and that shoots straight down to Steve’s crotch in a way he couldn’t have anticipated.

Eddie pulls back slightly, panting hard and trying to catch his breath, looking fuzzy and off-kilter as hell. 

 

“Whoa,” He whispers, and Steve can’t entirely swallow back the burble of laughter that prompts.

 

“What, never been properly kissed before either, Munson?” 

 

And he’s joking, it’s a joke, but the look on Eddie’s face says that it isn’t, and oh.

 

“Sorry,” Eddie is mumbling, words too close together as he rushes them out, hands coming to cover his mouth, “Sorry, I know you probably had like, uh, expectations, what with me being the most notorious fag in school. But I’m not…I haven’t-“

 

Steve wants to hear none of it. He pulls Eddie’s hands away, gently, only to replace their position with his own finger, stopping the rambling in its tracks. His other hand buries itself in Eddie’s hair, thumb landing on his cheekbone, where it moves to appreciate the curve of it, back and forth, as Steve studies his face in the new light of this information.

Eddie, he’s…he’s young. About the same age as Steve, and while he hardly feels young himself anymore, it’s mostly due to year after year of upside down bullshit, which Eddie has only endured for the first time a few months ago. For all intents and purposes, he’s a guy barely out of high school and only has the experience to go with that fact.

He’s not used to what Steve is used to. Steve isn’t the only fumbling beginner here. Eddie knows sex, the down and dirty of it, likely; but he doesn’t know anything else, any other part of it all. None of the soft, adoring parts of it, that come from being held and loved as yourself, rather than just a body.

 

“I was nervous coming here. It’s not like I know exactly what I’m doing either,” Steve admits. “So maybe I know a little, and you know a little, and that together can make up for what we both don’t know, and it’ll be good, yeah?”

 

Relief breaks out like a tidal wave over Eddie’s face, and he relaxes into the touch.

 

“Besides,” Steve continues, never able to tell when enough is enough. “It’s kind of hot, being the first.”

 

Eddie snorts. “Now that was a little over the top, even for you. I’m no blushing virgin here.”

 

Steve grins back. “Maybe, but I’ll be as lame as I want, if it means telling you all the things you’ve missed out on this whole time. It’s just not right.”

 

“You’re sweet, Harrington,” Eddie says like it’s an insult, even though his expression is soft around all the edges.

 

Steve bites back the question of how long Eddie will be able to tolerate it, that sickly sweetness that clings just a little too much, that wants too much, and smothers everyone it comes into contact with. It’s a self detrimental, consuming train of thought that only spirals downward, and now’s not the time.

Now is the time to take the face in his hands and treat it like something precious, something to be appreciated and touched with tenderness, because for the first time ever, he thinks, there is someone who probably could use some of his overbearing affection.

He’s good at reading his partners. He’s always had a knack for interpreting body language, and intuiting what it is they want; and Eddie is really no different, despite otherwise being nothing like any of those girls. He has no qualms telegraphing his every response and desire openly, not like Steve does. 

Steve’s never had a partner to communicate that to, before, always functioning on the expectation of being the provider, the one to anticipate needs and do most of the work, and getting enough out of doing just that, of feeling the accomplishment of it and the reward of knowing his skills satisfied his partner. Even with Nancy, when he’d let her take the lead, it had been so she could be comfortable doing what she wanted, and his desire had been a second thought.

Eddie clearly prefers being in control. He likes when Steve is on his back, and he likes when Steve lets him do what he wants, even if he’s not as confident in any of those things. He likes when Steve likes it, and seems to specifically search out the things that make him twitch and flush and buck underneath him, and Steve’s never been on the other end of that before.

It’s a little odd, and like he’d settled on before, new; but he does like it. Maybe a little too much. Likes thinking that if he wanted, he could probably lean back, hands off, and Eddie would gladly take over the whole show, experience be damned, and there would be no expectation for Steve to perform, no disappointment. 

It's a heady thing to think about, like fire licking him from head to toe; that he could sink into this, into the pressure of Eddie’s body, the weight of his hungry stare, and it would be okay. He can feel himself letting go by degrees, loosening his limbs and letting his mind grow hazy as Eddie mouths all along his neck, pawing underneath his shirt as his hips resume their grinding from earlier. 

 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” Steve sucks in air as Eddie seems to isolate a spot on his neck, right behind his ear, that makes even the nerves at the end of his fingertips light up and spark.

 

His hands find Eddie’s waist (it’s narrow, so narrow he covers the whole span of him under both palms, god,) and he pulls down, adding pressure to his rhythmic motions, and gasps erupt out of both of them.

 

“Off. Take them off,” Steve begs, as Eddie scrambles off him to accomplish just that, twisting off the bed while he wrangles with the ungodly tight pants he always wears. 

 

Steve doesn’t think about it, about getting naked in front of Eddie. Not while his dick is aching and desperate to escape the confines of the rough denim; not until he’s sitting there with his underwear around his ankles, and Eddie pops up beside him and stills, line of sight landing squarely on his exposed skin, and the reddened, twitching head of his cock. 

He’s probably embarrassingly flushed right now, but he can’t help it. He’s been in a lot of locker rooms in his life, and he hadn’t truly expected this to be too much different, but Eddie’s eyes are glinting with a fresh sort of craving, and yeah, maybe it’s something about the novelty of it, of having another guy look at him in that way for the first time. it’s new, just like everything else, and it leaves him wondering how many pieces of this familiar dance he’s long since grown accustomed to are going to be injected with new life.

He looks back, then, because he can; and because there is a tattoo that is crawling across Eddie’s thigh that immediately draws his eye, dark and detailed, leaving his mouth to water.

Eddie looks almost as uncomfortable as Steve feels under the similar scrutiny, and that eases something in Steve, making him laugh and gesture.

 

“Come back up here.”

 

There’s something Eddie projects in his movements, in how his arms flex like he wants to cover himself, before he purposefully draws them behind his head to gather his hair up in a bunch and keep it in place with a tie from his wrist, which leaves him even more on display. He’s nervous, but doesn’t want Steve to see that he is.

It makes it better, though, to know he’s not the only one.

Eddie clambers his way back to his position on Steve, undaunted when he sees Steve isn’t going to, like, snap to his senses and freak out or something at the sight of another dick.

His breath is shaky on the exhale, as he presses the heads of their cocks together; just the slightest touch of Eddie’s heated skin is enough to make Steve go boneless, though, and he collapses back on his pillow.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Eddie nods in agreement. “So, how do you wanna do this, Harrington? How far are we going?” 

 

Steve frowns. “I was really hoping you would, uh, take the lead on that part?”

 

Eddie frowns back. “That’s not really how consent works…unless you’re saying you’re good with anything?”

 

Steve huffs. “Well, I don’t really know what ‘anything’ entails. I don’t know what…what we’re able to do, so I can’t tell you.”

 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and Steve scrambles to salvage that. “I’m not stupid! I know we can like, touch, or…or blow each other. I’m just not familiar with…with the logistics of anything else.”

 

Eddie seems to hesitate, weighing something out as he tilts his head in consideration, biting his bottom lip.

 

“Well,” He drawls out, “As much of a fucking dream and half as it would be to fuck you, I don’t think we should start with that. So how about I go down on you, and you do whatever you feel comfortable with for now?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agrees easily, trying not to seem overly eager. He honestly would have gone along with just about any suggestion Eddie could make at this point, but just the thought of Eddie’s mouth has him throbbing.

 

Eddie slides down easily to his knees, just off the side of low bed, and pulls Steve along with him until his knees are hanging over the edge, bracketed around Eddie’s shoulders.

Steve can feel the warm, puff of Eddie’s breath on him, and his stomach tightens with anticipation.

He’s not a novice at revieving blowjobs, nor even to the little pinpricks of excitement over the experience of it with a new partner; but there’s something about the way Eddie’s looking up at him, his brown eyes wide under his lashes as he opens his mouth and lets Steve’s cock land on his tongue…

“Fuuuuuck,” Steve whines, and he’s not ashamed to admit that’s exactly what he does, because holy shit.

 

Eddie hums the minute his lips are enclosed around him, and Steve can’t help the little thrust of his hips that propel him further in.

 

“S-sorry,” Steve stammers out, holding himself back more consciously as he grips his sheets in a death grip of sheer concentration.

 

Eddie smirks. His lips are stretched obscenely around Steve’s dick and he smirks, not even breaking eye contact. Steve does, though. He lets his head fall back, because if he looks any more, this will be over way too fucking fast.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Eddie’s skilled, without any apparent intent to draw it out, and Steve’s way too keyed up to last longer than just a few minutes.

A few life changing, world altering minutes, because there is no chance in hell the memory of Eddie kneeling between his legs with his mouth open wide is going to become anything other than his default setting; a reoccurring picture injected between any and everything else he ever thinks about for the rest of his life.

It takes him a moment to come back down from the high of it, blinking sluggishly, not even noticing at first how Eddie hops back up on the bed beside him. When he does, he smiles, slow and satisfied, matching Eddie’s pleased expression.

 

“What should I do for you?” He offers.

 

“Won’t take much,” Eddie admits. “I’m halfway through every dirty fantasy I had in freshman year. You probably only need to-“

 

Steve cuts him off with a kiss before he can even finish that thought.

 

“Freshman year?” He beams, ego inflated but stull incredulous.

 

“Shut up.” Eddie’s pointing at him, but Steve can see the twitching of his lips that says he’s fighting back a laugh.

 

“I can use my hand. That good enough?”

 

“I could write odes to your hands, Harrington,” Eddie says with just enough sincerity that Steve thinks it’s probably only half the joke it’s meant to be, which makes it endearingly even more funny.

 

He touches Eddie slowly, getting used to the angle, and watches his breath catch he does it. It’s nice, he thinks, in the way that it’s a little more familiar than when he does this with a girl, and he feels a little more sure that what he’s doing works. He wishes he’d thought to find some lotion, or something. He wants this to be good.

 

“Can you - would it be weird to ask you to lay down the other way?”

 

“Your wish is my command,” Eddie answers, the words only coming out a little choked, and he compliantly rolls to face away from Steve.

 

Steve aligns himself against Eddie’s back, and yes, this is so much better already. His nose presses into the back of Eddie’s neck, and he revels in all the places their skin touches, the easy intimacy of it like this.

He pulls one of Eddie’s legs back over his own thigh, exposing him a little more, easing his access. This time, when he reaches around and palms his cock, it feels much more natural, and he’s able to pick up a pace without awkwardness.

He likes it like this, with his chest pressed up against Eddie’s back, where he can feel the erratic thumping of his heartbeat if he tries. With his arm across Eddie’s belly, he can feel every time something he does hitches his breath, or when he exhales everything out at once in a silent gasp.

He licks a stripe up the side of Eddie’s neck before pressing kisses all the open surface area he can reach; across his shoulder, over his back, landing finally on his cheek, until Eddie turns his head to catch his mouth himself.

Eddie’s buildup is a little slower than Steve’s, starting as needy little moans that Steve swallows right up as he kisses him deeper, before growing steadily into a high pitched keen that breaks off. His hips give a stuttering thrust into the ring of Steve’s fingers, and he holds them there, shuddering and releasing, before collapsing back with a shivery groan.

Steve wipes his messy hand onto the bedspread, uncaring, before tucking his arm right back around Eddie’s middle and pulling him close again. He sort of wants to pull away, just so he can look at Eddie properly, see the mess he looks right now, all tired and sated with his hair falling out of where he’d tied it behind his head, but that would mean giving up touching him like this, and he doesn’t think he can.

There’s a pleasant quiet that settles around them, and Steve’s happy to lay in it, watching the dimples of Eddie’s cheek deepen as he smiles to himself, his fingertips brushing lazily over Steve’s arm.

But then the thought strikes him, as he turns over the conversations of the past hour in the quietude.


“Hey, earlier, how come we were running on the assumption that I would be the one getting fucked?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t really do it the other way. But that’s -“ He cuts off, levelling an assessing glance at Steve over his shoulder. “That’s mostly my preference due to some bad experiences. I don’t really trust strangers enough for that. But you…well, I guess it wouldn’t be the same with you, would it?”


Eddie rolls over, breaking the hold, and props himself up on Steve’s chest. He leans in, hair dangling over Steve’s face like a curtain, the tips of their noses brushing. “You’d take good care of me, wouldn’t you, Stevie? All sweet and attentive and careful. Hell, you’d probably overboard the prep, and ask me how I was doing every other minute.”

 

And yes, that does sound like something Steve would do, even if he doesn’t know the full details of what “prep” entails; but he doesn’t feel like acknowledging the teasing anyway, even as the mental image puts an itch under his skin that almost makes him forget he just got off a few minutes ago.

 

“I want to try it,” He decides to say instead. “I want to try it both ways. I want to try everything, with you.”

 

“Fuck me,” Eddie breathes out. “Fuck. I’d let you, Stevie.”

 

And Steve can glean from context what an honor that is, for Eddie. He leans in too, their foreheads resting on each other, and he grins.

 

“And what about you, what do you want?”

 

Eddie leans back, only to give him a very thorough once over that sends Steve’s stomach swooping in a way has him reminding himself that you can’t get hard again that fast, we aren’t a teenager anymore, goddammit.

 

“Your thighs in gym shorts were always sinful enough to be a fucking crime, Harrington.” Eddie’s mouth curls up at the edges, teasing and playful, his tongue running across his teeth at the recollection. “I think I’d give up heaven to see them spread over my lap while you ride me.”

 

Steve’s red, he fucking knows it, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s never been on the receiving end of dirty talk like this, never even thought about it, which is a crying shame, because he hasn’t responded so fast to something post-orgasm since he was sixteen years old, but there it’s sitting, hot and sharp and interested in his belly.

Eddie, seemingly unaware of the state he’s rendered Steve into, rockets suddenly up from the bed, as though he’s hit his quota for stillness for the day. 

He’s always been a bit of a hurricane, constantly moving this way or that, and flailing his limbs around when he’s forced to sit still. Seems not even getting off can subdue him more than ten minutes, but Steve can’t even complain, watching him whip around the room, mumbling to himself and collecting strewn clothing. It’s all part of the Munson charm.

 

“You want something to eat?”

 

I could go for a second course, he almost says, almost, but the thing is, he actually would appreciate some food right now.

He nods, and Eddie nods back. “Cool. I’m just gonna,” he gestures to the pile of gathered clothes in his arms. “Start this in the laundry, if you want to head to the kitchen."

He’s gone before Steve can mention that Eddie’s stolen his clothes, but he shrugs. He can borrow a shirt or something.

He rifles through the two drawers in the room, trying to find something that isn’t a pair of insanely skinny jeans, until he pulls out what look to be a very old pair of shorts, and a randomly selected band shirt that’s had the sleeves cut off.

He throws it on and tiptoes to the kitchen; not worried about making noise or anything, just out of the sheer awkwardness of being in somebody else’s home.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching behind him, until all at once there’s a lot of noise, and he swivels to see Eddie dropping to his knees, hands clasped over his heart dramatically.

 

“You bastard! ” He cries. “After I told you what your legs in shorts do to me. This is targeted! Weaponization!”

 

Steve can’t bury the amusement over Eddie’s theatrics, tugging at the bottom of the shorts with a smile. 

 

Eddie shuffles forwards on his knees. “Temptress! Seductress! Your evil charms have ensnared me, to what end?!”

 

Steve laughs. He tosses his head back and he laughs, uncontrolled and free. Eddie is ridiculous, and he loves it.

 

Eddie launches forward the last few inches between them, his arms coming around the back of Steve’s hips so he can press his face into the bare skin below the hem of the shorts.

 

“To die by your thighs, is such a heavenly way to die,” Eddie sings, muffled, and Steve thinks he recognizes the tune from the radio, maybe, or one of the bands Jonathan plays.

 

“You’re such a dork,” Steve chastises, but he’s still giggling, and Eddie tilts back to reveal he’s matching his expression, cheeks pulled wide, and there's a fluttering in Steve's chest at the sight.

 

And maybe they’ll make food, consuming it all in a hurry to race back to the bedroom, and maybe they’ll take too long, goofing around in the kitchen instead of accomplishing anything, and pass out together in Eddie’s bed, just comfortable in each other’s presence; Steve thinks it doesn’t matter, because he’s the sort of far gone on Eddie now that either option blooms the same kind of warmth in him.