Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie used to think his worst enemy was Zoloft.

The pills had gutted his relationship with Marisol—stripped it of its rhythm, its spark. The nightmares were gone, sure, but so was everything else. Sex drive? Obliterated. Connection? Strained. He’d been left lying beside her, body still, mind humming, and nothing between them but silence and breath.

Six months ago, therapy had felt like surrender. Now it was routine. Frank was good. Annoyingly good. Eddie had come in skeptical, arms crossed and words clipped, but Bobby’s quiet patience and Buck’s relentless nudging had worn him down. Marisol had backed him, too. At first. Until the meds kicked in.

Or maybe that was just in his head. Maybe she had been supportive, even through the dry spell. She wasn't now. Not after Eddie called it quits, unable to fake closeness while feeling broken.

“Erectile dysfunction,” Frank had said like it was the weather. Common side effect. Anxiety meds. Even though Eddie didn’t panic. Not really. He just… dreamt about the war. Repeatedly. Woke up soaked in sweat with his fists clenched, his heart racing like it was still on patrol.

Frank called it PTSD. Severe, apparently. EMDR and Zoloft were the prescription. “You’ve been living like you’re still over there,” Frank had said. “It’s time to come home.”

They were working. The meds, the sessions. Until tonight. Because Zoloft wasn't his biggest enemy after all.

It was Buck.

Buck, in cowboy boots and too-tight jeans, a suede vest swinging open to reveal every inch of his ridiculous torso. The hat tilted low on his brow, a grin splitting his face, cheeks pink from laughter and cheap beer. Buck was dancing—hips loose, feet confident, like he had been born and raised in Texas instead of Eddie.

Eddie stared and stared, beer in hand, mouth dry.

The bar around them erupted as Chimney shouted something, laughter echoing off the walls. Buck took a slow spin, holding his hat like a pro, vest gaping. Hen cackled. Ravi whistled. Buck winked.

Eddie shifted in his seat, gritting his teeth. His jeans had become a prison. How was it possible that after so many failed attempts to get hard, to have sex with his gorgeous girlfriend, it was Buck dressed as a cowboy that did it for him? This was insane. Why couldn’t he just look away?

Their team hollered and clapped loudly, as Buck came back to join their table. He was still grinning bashfully, but the twinkle in his eye was anything but ashamed.

“Jesus, Buck,” Chim yelled. “Maybe I married the wrong Buckley.”

Laughter rippled around Eddie. He tried to blink away the image, but Buck’s body was burned into the backs of his eyelids. The line of his abs, the flush on his skin, the goddamn way he moved.

Jesus Christ.

“Maybe stop catching flies, Diaz,” Hen whispered, her voice soft but somehow louder than the music.

Eddie’s jaw snapped shut. He turned to glare at her, but her smirk was already smug and knowing.

He stood abruptly, jacket strategically positioned in front of his crotch. Four sets of eyes clocked his retreat instantly. No Cap tonight, thank God. He’d have called him out on it in a second.

Buck looked concerned. Of course he did. Eddie ignored him.

“Gotta go, guys” he muttered, backing toward the door. “It was fun.”

“But we’ve got seventy-two hours off!” Ravi protested.

Eddie shrugged. “Gotta get Chris from my Tía.”

“I thought he was staying over?” Buck asked, rising from his chair. His eyes were sharp now, even tipsy. “Ravi, shut up,” he added with a grin to something Eddie hadn’t caught. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bye Eddie,” Chim slurred, laughing at another thing Eddie didn’t quiet catch.

Eddie turned on his heel, trying to breathe through the mess of heat and confusion knotting in his gut. Buck followed. Of course he did.

The sound of his boots was too loud. The night air was cold against Eddie’s skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool him down. To get soft again.

Maybe the Zoloft had finally worn off. Zoloft didn’t necessarily equal ED or a lower libido, it was something you build up. Besides, not everyone that took the drug had the same problems Eddie had.

And now, even tipsy and still on drugs, Sexy Cowboy Buck was what did it for him? Seriously?

Like, objectively, sure Buck was beautiful. But Eddie was straight.

Or maybe—

A hand landed on his shoulder. Eddie flinched.

“Easy, Eds.” Buck’s laugh was soft, warm.

Eddie turned, and there he was—his best friend, vest flapping slightly in the breeze, nipples hard, arms goosebumped. Beautiful. Unfairly beautiful. Eddie would pay good money to be allowed to run his tongue—

No.

Oh, no. God, what was wrong with him?

“You okay?” Buck asked, leaning down to catch Eddie’s eye.

“Fine,” Eddie said too quickly. His voice sounded too tight. “Just… Chris. Promised Tía Peppa I’d be on time.”

Lie. Huge lie. He was going to go home and lose his mind in the shower. Or in bed.

Buck was still staring at him, brow furrowed in that Buck way—like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t realize was too dangerous to touch. And that was Eddie’s clue to really leave. Buck could not figure out what was going on with Eddie.

“I could come with you?” he offered. “Just to—”

“No,” Eddie said, a little too sharp. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. Get inside, you’ll catch a cold out here.” He willed the heat under his skin away and his heartbeat to slow down. He could finally feel his underwear get less uncomfortable.

Buck hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, cool. I’ll… talk to you tomorrow?”

Eddie nodded. Watched him walk away. Swallowed hard. Then he turned, climbed into his truck, and drove off into the night—Buck still dancing in his head.

*

Eddie had been in a mood for weeks. Not that anyone said anything—Chim just offered his usual awkward grin and backed off, Hen raised her eyebrows once or twice but didn’t push, and Buck… Buck kept showing up like he always did. Which only made it worse.

He was mad at Buck. Mad at Marisol, for absolutely nothing realistic. Mad at Frank, for being right. But mostly, he was furious with himself.

The worst of it was how the only time he could take the edge off—alone, late at night, sheets tangled and breath tight in his chest—was when he let himself think of Buck. And once he started, it was impossible to stop.

It used to be a flicker. A thought quickly boxed up and shoved down. A shoulder touch here, a laugh that went too long there. Manageable. Now, it followed him everywhere—haunted him in daylight, hunted him at night.

“You can’t put all your feelings in a box, Eddie,” Frank had said in that patient, maddening way of his. “You might think that if you’re strong enough that it’ll hold, but at some point, that box is gonna blow up.”

And maybe Frank was right. Maybe Eddie had already cracked.

It felt like grief in slow motion. He’d done denial—years of it. Anger came naturally. Bargaining had happened somewhere between the Hail Marys and half-assed confessions. Depression? That was always hovering.

Now he was toeing the edge of something terrifying: acceptance.

It wasn’t just the feelings. It was what they meant. What they ruined. Because Buck didn’t look at him that way. Buck saw a brother. A best friend. A co-parent. A soldier at his side, not someone he’d want to kiss until the world dropped away. He fist-bumped him when Eddie wanted nothing more than to be yanked forward and kissed fiercely.

So, Eddie made a new rule for himself: fist bump first. Beat Buck to it. Do it fast, do it casual, do it before that split-second of hesitation gave anything away.

And then there was the time lost. Buck had spent his twenties learning himself inside out. No shame, no guilt. Figuring out what he wanted, what he liked. Eddie was already in his thirties and still pretending he had it all figured out—like he hadn’t built his entire identity around survival, around being the man of the house since he was old enough to cycle to school alone

Partners would expect him to have everything figured out. Hell, he knew how to please a woman. Could navigate that script like a pro. But when it came to desire that burned—that scared him—he was back at square one.

And beneath it all, a deeper grief pressed like a bruise he didn’t dare touch: What would his father say?

He already knew. Act normal. Be a real Diaz man. Handle it.

Like he handled everything else. Like he handled it when he was ten, trying to fill shoes too big for any kid.

Eddie stared out the window, soot clinging to his skin, sweat drying in streaks across his temple. The truck hummed around them as it rolled through downtown, the heavy silence of exhaustion thick in the air.

Chim and Ravi were knocked out—Chim with his head tipped against the glass, Ravi half-sprawled on Hen’s shoulder. Hen stared out at the city with that same haunted look they all wore after a call like that.

Two hours in overtime, and they’d still lost lives. Kids. No amount of training dulled that particular wound.

Buck sat on the bench opposite him, shoulder to shoulder with Hen. Their legs had no choice but to interlock in the tight space. Eddie’s thigh pressed against Buck’s, then Buck’s knee against his. Eddie’s shin was tucked beneath Buck’s calf. A human jigsaw. A human puzzle that fit perfectly.

It shouldn’t have felt like anything. But it did.

Buck was already looking at him when he glanced over. His face streaked in black and gray, blue eyes rimmed red from the smoke—Eddie hoped that’s all it was. His curls, flattened with sweat and ash, framed his face like shadows. His lips—Jesus, those lips—parted like he was about to speak.

But he didn’t.

Eddie swallowed. Buck’s eyes dipped to the motion like a hawk, and Eddie’s stomach clenched. Heat coiled in the pit of his stomach.

Too much. Too close.

He jerked his gaze out the window again and counted the seconds until the engine pulled into the station bay. This was not the time to get all flustered and turned on. The hiss of the brakes was a lifeline.

He was the first one out.

Hot water. Clean clothes. Routine. That was the only way to reset.

By the time the others started trickling into the locker room, Eddie was back in his jeans, boots laced, hoodie zipped. His duffel strap creaked on his shoulder as he passed through the bay.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he called out. Then, his eyes found Buck again. He’d come by later tonight to do a film marathon with him and Chris. “You going home?”

Buck shook his head, casually tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Gonna shower here, then head to the club.”

Eddie’s feet stopped moving. Club. The word punched through him with more force than he expected.

He knew what that meant. Buck had told him before—stories about scenes and safe words and nights spent with partners who knew what they were doing. Eddie had always cut him off before he got too detailed.

He didn’t want to know. Couldn’t know.

“Shower at home,” Eddie snapped before he could think. “I don’t want any STDs near my house.”

The words dropped like glass shattering in the quiet.

Buck blinked. “It’s not about sex, Eddie. And implying that everyone who goes to—”

“I’ll see you later, Buck.” Eddie turned sharply and walked away, throat tight and fists clenched.

He didn’t see the look on Buck’s face. He didn’t want to.

*

“What time is Buck coming?”

“Probably any moment now, mijo,” Eddie muttered, turning the page of his book.

Chris had set the table with several kinds of candy, chips, cookies, and popcorn. There was Coke, water, and glasses with slices of lemon. His son had been looking forward to this night all week—especially since Buck had been a little busy the past few months, with the club and scenes.

The bell rang and Chris jumped up to open the door for Buck, who had even more candy and popcorn in his hands. His hair was damp, curling on his forehead as if to mock Eddie for his earlier comment that Buck had to shower at home.

Eddie slowly stood from the couch to put his book away.

“Chris, you’ll prepare the first movie?” Buck asked, heading to the kitchen with his load. “Eddie, can you help me out here?”

With a soft huff, Eddie made his way over to the kitchen, where Buck leaned back against the cabinets, hands braced on the counter. He narrowed his eyes at Eddie.

Eddie stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling like a cornered deer.

“You know where the bowls are, right?” Eddie finally said.

“What’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’s going on, Eddie?” Buck pressed, eyes searching his face. He crossed his arms over his chest. God. The movement made his biceps bulge beneath his shirt. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for weeks. You—you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder. Is it the club? Is it that repulsive to you that you don’t want to be friends anym—”

“No!” The word exploded from his mouth so fast and loud it startled even him.

He didn’t want to lose Buck. He’d rather have him the way he could than not at all.

Buck’s frown deepened. “Then what is it? Have I done something?”

Eddie gulped, unable to find the words. His heart raced, hands shook, skin flushed. It felt like his lungs were filling with water. Buck blurred from his vision. The room sounded underwater.

He knew what was happening. And yet, each time, it hit worse than the last. Because Eddie didn’t panic.

“—Breathe, Eddie. Now.”

He gasped for air, lungs finally filling.

“Another one, Eddie. Easy. You’re doing well.”

Buck’s voice cut through the fog, grounding him. Eddie followed each instruction without even noticing.

“You back with me?” Buck murmured, now in front of him instead of across the room.

Eddie nodded, shame coloring his neck and cheeks.

“You did great,” Buck said gently. “Now, do you want to talk about it or not? We don’t have to do it today, but… we do need to.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “’Nother time.” Then he fled the kitchen, settling on the farthest side of the couch and placing Chris strategically between them.

“Buck, hurry!” Chris shouted, engrossed in popcorn, oblivious to the sweat on his dad’s temple or the tremor in his fingers as he came down from the attack.

“Coming!” Buck called back. A few minutes later, he returned with even more bowls, as if they were feeding an army instead of three people. Buck and Eddie barely ate sweets—just some chips and popcorn, maybe.

He shot Eddie a look, but Eddie focused intently on the TV screen. They were watching the Star Wars movies—Chris and Buck had both been shocked when Eddie admitted he’d never seen them. He wasn’t seeing much now either. His eyes were on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

Blond curls. Blue eyes. A beautiful birthmark. A deep voice. Large, calloused hands. Random facts. Orders Eddie had followed without hesitation.

Maybe he finally understood why people wanted to scene with Buck.

Maybe he understood too well.

Maybe that was why he’d been so irritated lately.

Oh.

Oh.

For fuck’s sake.

“Okay,” Buck said, still grinning at Chris. “What should I make for dinner?”

“Can’t we just order pizza and watch the next one?”

Both Buck and Chris turned to Eddie.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Awesome,” Chris grinned. Buck pulled out his phone to pick the pizzas.

They were deep into the third movie, pizza crusts scattered on the table, when Chris fell asleep on Eddie’s shoulder. The sight made him swallow—his son was growing up so fast. Buck, still captivated by the movie, didn’t notice.

His mouth hung slightly open as he took in every scene like he hadn’t already seen the films at least five times. He licked his lips, and Eddie’s gaze followed the movement. Buck whispered lines with the actors. He sighed sadly at the final Anakin scene. Then the credits rolled, and he turned toward Chris with a blinding smile—one that fell when he saw he was asleep.

“God, how long has he been out?” Buck whispered, standing to carry Chris to his room.

Eddie let him, wondering if Chris would wake and protest being carried like a kid.

He didn’t.

A few minutes later, Buck came back out and began cleaning, but Eddie’s fingers wrapped around his wrist.

Buck froze and looked down at him.

“You good?”

“I want to do a scene with you.”

Buck laughed, like he thought Eddie was joking. But Eddie winced and pulled his hand back. Buck’s smile vanished.

“Shit. Sorry. I thought you were joking. But… um, what?” He sat slowly. “I thought you hated what I did. You never let me talk about it.”

Eddie stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say or do anymore. The need had slipped from his chest to his mouth—to Buck’s ears.

“And—and you want to do this with me?” Buck asked. “I know I said it’s not always about sex, but most of the time it is. And… with me? I don’t understand. Where is this coming from?”

Eddie said nothing.

“Eddie, talk to me,” Buck pleaded.

Eddie swallowed.

“Talk to me,” he repeated, firmer this time.

“I don’t know, Buck,” Eddie finally sighed. “It’s just something I want to try.”

“You want to sub?” Buck clarified.

Eddie could feel himself burn up. God. Why was this so hard? Why was Buck making it harder?

He gave a jerky nod.

“And with me?” Buck asked again, stuck on that point. “There are also women who dom. I know a few, if you—”

He stopped when he saw something shift in Eddie’s face.

“Eddie?”

Eddie looked at him again.

“Are you straight?”

A shuddering breath left Eddie as he shrugged. “I don’t know.” His voice sounded so soft, so… lost. Even to his own ears. He had never felt like this. “I just know that I want to do a scene with you. And that I don’t want you to do it with anyone else.”

That stopped Buck cold. This time, it was him that stayed silent. Eddie could see the rears behind his eyes trying to work out what was happening.

They stared at each other. Then Buck’s posture changed. His face softened. Even the way his voice sounded was different. Gentle.

“That’s good, Eddie. Thank you for telling me.” He scooted closer, eyes never leaving Eddie’s face. “Do you have anything in mind you want to try?”

“We’re really doing this?” Eddie asked, stunned.

“If that’s what you desire.”

If that’s what you desire. Wasn’t it what Buck wanted, too? Was this a mistake?

Eddie frowned at his hands.

“Look at me, Eddie.”

Eddie did as Buck asked—ordered. Was it something natural in Eddie to follow orders? Why did this feel different from the orders he had gotten in the army? They didn’t make him feel this warm, this… safe.

His body understood: Buck would take care of him.

And that...

It felt like Buck had punched the air from his lungs.

Hadn’t he always wanted someone to take care of him? Hadn’t he always wished not to be the man of the house? Hadn’t he begged God for someone he could lean on? People always leaned on him—Mom, Sofia, Adriana, Shannon, Ana, Marisol, Chris, people at work—

Wasn’t Buck the only person in this world he could lean on?

Buck was going to take care of Eddie.

And that—that—brought tears to Eddie’s eyes. He blinked hard, tried to swallow the emotion like he always did. Marine training. Firehouse control. Dad composure. But one tear slipped through anyway, warm and uninvited, carving a line down his cheek.

Buck didn’t flinch. Just gave him a soft, somber smile and brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb—gentle, like he knew exactly how much pressure Eddie could take. His touch lingered longer than it needed to, thumb still moving slowly over Eddie’s skin like a silent reassurance.

Eddie exhaled, shaky. The blue in Buck’s eyes looked impossibly deep—almost too much to look at. His breath hitched when Buck spoke.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Eds.” It was barely above a whisper, like a promise spoken straight into his bones. “But for this to work, we have to talk. Plan. And… you gotta fill out a questionnaire.”

Eddie blinked, a crease forming between his brows. “A… questionnaire?”

Buck didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. He just watched him with that steady gaze that always made Eddie feel both stripped bare and somehow safe. But that first sentence still rang louder in his ears than anything else.

I’ll give you anything you want, Eds.

God. Buck meant it. That was the part that knocked the air out of Eddie’s lungs again. He felt the old pressure behind his ribs, the one he used to ignore when he couldn’t admit what he wanted.

He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the table. “Sounds like a lot of work,” he managed, trying to twist the weight in his chest into something light.

Buck finally cracked a grin, withdrawing his hand. The air between them instantly cooled. Eddie wanted his touch back.

“It is,” Buck said, standing to gather the dishes. “But it’s worth it.”

He winked—actually winked—then turned toward the kitchen like he hadn’t just shattered Eddie’s whole inner world with a smile and kind words.

By the time Eddie had caught up with even half of what had just happened, Buck was back, dropping onto the couch beside him again. Their knees bumped. They’d done that for years—on couches, at calls, sitting on curbs with bruised ribs and shared Gatorade. But tonight, the warmth of Buck’s knee against his own felt electric.

“There’s some stuff you should know before we go any further,” Buck started. His voice had slipped into what Eddie liked to call “lecture mode”—the same one he used when explaining hydraulic tools or random facts from his research rabbit holes.

But Eddie… wasn’t hearing a word.

His eyes were locked on Buck’s mouth, soft and pink. The slight curve of his upper lip, the flash of his tongue when he licked them mid-sentence. Then down to his arms—strong, solid, corded muscle under that fitted Henley. The kind of arms that carried people out of burning buildings like they weighed nothing. The kind of arms that had carried him once.

Eddie’s gaze dropped lower.

Fuck. He felt like a damned teenager that had discovered his dick.

But those thighs. Eddie wanted to see Buck’s nipples again. He wanted to beg him to be allowed to lick them and suck on them.

Would Buck lick Eddie’s too? Would he lick his cock? Could Eddie lick Buck’s?

“—and you’re not listening to me.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up. Busted. He’d been staring at Buck’s crotch—staring. His cheeks flamed red. He braced for the teasing, for the cocky smirk, for something about “happy to see me?” or “want a closer look?”

But Buck didn’t smirk.

He just sighed and sat back. “Okay, maybe I was rambling,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “But it’s important, Eddie. I need you to really understand before you decide if this is something you want.”

That sobered him.

Eddie nodded, throat tight. Because this—Buck—was everything. Buck could ruin him. He could fucking ruin him and Eddie would ask for more. Because Buck was Eddie’s person. His safest place. His gravity. And if Buck wanted him like this, wanted to try, wanted to care for him like this…

Eddie could be ruined, and he’d still ask for more. That was the conclusion.

“I’ll do some research,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Online.”

Buck made a face. “Please don’t. It’s a dumpster fire out there.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll send you some stuff—articles, the questionnaire, good resources. Just text me if anything confuses you, okay? There are no dumb questions. I’ve pretty much seen and done it all.”

And there it was again—that sting in Eddie’s gut. The green, ugly twist of jealousy. Because Buck had done this before. Not with Eddie. With others. With people who knew how to ask for what they wanted. He had not wanted to listen to his stories, because his fantasies went crazy with every bit of information Buck gave about his sex life.

Eddie’s fingers curled in his lap, trying to find another subject to latch onto. “Buck?”

Buck looked up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Frank prescribes me medication,” he said, quiet but steady.

Buck set his phone down. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. What’s it for?”

Eddie hesitated. They didn’t talk much about therapy—just enough to acknowledge the shared weight they carried.

“PTSD,” he said finally.

Buck’s expression didn’t flicker. Just a nod. “Does it help?”

“It does. But, uh… there are side effects. That might be…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t know how to.

Buck studied him for a beat. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “If something’s tricky, we adapt. I can be very persuasive.”

Was Buck flirting with him?

His smile was all warmth, no mockery. No pressure. Just Buck. And Eddie’s heart thudded like it was trying to crack open his ribs. He had not even finished his sentence, and Buck had still understood. Buck always understood.

His phone buzzed with the links and the questionnaire Buck had send. He welcomed the distraction and immediately unlocked his phone to check it out.

“Very well,” Buck said, standing again and slapping his thighs. “I’m gonna head out. Text me, okay? Questions, doubts, brain spirals—hit me with all of it.”

Eddie hummed, already scanning the first text, grateful for the escape from his own heartbeat.

Buck paused by the door, chuckling to himself. “Thank fuck for seventy-two hours of freedom.”

Then he was gone, leaving Eddie alone with a racing pulse, a stack of links, and the slow-blooming realization that maybe—just maybe—he was finally allowed to want.

*

Eddie: Do you expect me to call you Master?

Buck: we need 2 talk abt what we’ll call each other

Buck: doesnt have to be master

Buck: daddy, sir, just buck smth else

Buck: maybe not buck but if thats the only thing ure comftble w we can do that 2

Eddie huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head as he stared at the screen. Sometimes texting with Buck felt suspiciously like texting with Christopher—too many abbreviations, too little punctuation. He really was too old for this shorthand crap.

He’d been glued to his laptop ever since Buck left—two hours, give or take. His apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that used to make him itch, but tonight it buzzed around him like static. The links Buck had sent were still open in different tabs. He’d fallen into a rabbit hole and surfaced with his brain lit up like a flare.

Eddie: Where would we do a scene?

Buck: station 118?

Eddie’s mouth dropped open before a startled laugh escaped him, echoing through his room. Of course Buck would say something like that.

Eddie: Cap’s office?

Buck: LOL

Buck: we can go to the club

Buck: @ homes also possible w smaller scenes

Eddie: I don’t want to go to the club.

The thought made his skin crawl. Public spaces. Eyes. Judgement. Exposure. But most of all, people who had already done countless of scenes with Buck.

Buck: thats cool anything u want

And just like that, Eddie’s stomach did a summersault. Buck didn’t push. Didn’t try to sell him on it. Just gave him space—safe, endless space.

Eddie opened the questionnaire. Seven pages. Seven pages. Rows and rows of acts, some he recognized, most he didn’t. Each item had options: tried, how much you’d like to try it on a scale from 1-5. Giving. Receiving. Observing.

His cursor hovered over a section labeled “Edgeplay.” The list made his throat tighten. Every time he saw something he was remotely interested in, and image of him and Buck doing that in a scene flashed in front of his eyes.

He hadn’t even known half these things existed.

One part of him was wildly curious; the other part… nauseated. There were a few things that made him sit back and physically recoil. A twist of his stomach. A hard no. And then a quiet, creeping worry: What if Buck wanted those things? What if he expected them? What would happen if Buck did like to play with feces or if he wanted to humiliate him in public?

He grabbed his phone like a lifeline.

Eddie: What happens if one of us wants to do something and the other doesn’t?

Buck: depends on the dom tbh

Buck: im open to a lot not everything tho

Buck: but I wouldnt deny u a scene if u wldnt want 2 do smth

It took Eddie a second to absorb that. The idea that Buck—the Buck who used to sprint into burning buildings without backup—would turn down something he wanted just because Eddie wasn’t comfortable with it?

His chest ached. A weird, warm kind of ache.

Eddie: Are we going to talk about the questionnaires?

Buck: yeah not now tho its 3 in the morning eddie go 2 bed

Eddie: Tomorrow?

Buck: u done already?

Buck: eager boy

Eddie’s cheeks burned. Jesus.

He could hear Buck saying that—could see the grin, the teasing glint in his eyes. Could imagine that low, knowing tone curling around the words. “Eager boy.” His heart tripped over itself.

Before he lost his nerve, he hit send. Questionnaire attached.

Eddie: Goodnight.

Buck: u rlly think I can sleep now

Eddie laughed softly, the sound muffled by his pillow as he set the phone on his nightstand. His eyes drifted shut with a weightless kind of contentment pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He hadn’t expected this to feel good. Safe. Fun.

But with Buck… it always did.

*

Eddie had thought discussing their questionnaires was the most embarrassing thing ever. But during their next seventy-two, Buck scheduled their first scene.

He had ordered Eddie to strip to his boxers and kneel on the ground, palms resting on his thighs, head bowed to the floor of his bedroom. A soft pillow had been placed for his knees where Buck expected him to kneel—right at the foot of Buck’s bed.

And now he was somewhere downstairs, while Eddie remained kneeling.

They had set some ground rules before the scene began.

Eddie was only allowed to do anything if Buck gave permission—even speak. They would use the traffic light system: green for go, yellow for pause, red for stop. Each of them had chosen a safeword. Eddie, a little lamely, had gone with safeword. Buck’s was potato, because of course it was something like potato.

If either of them said their safeword, the scene would end immediately, and they’d move to aftercare—after checking in, of course. Buck had also introduced him to SSC: Safe, Sane, and Consensual—the foundational philosophy of BDSM. Some articles Buck sent had been critical of SSC, and Eddie had found it so typically Buck to not just offer rainbows and sunshine, but the full picture.

Their first scene would be soft. Nothing intense. Eddie wasn’t some hardcore BDSM enthusiast anyway, and Buck clearly wanted to take it slow. He was nervous, Eddie could tell—afraid of pushing too far too soon.

Any moment now, Buck would come upstairs. He’d blindfold Eddie first, help him relax. Then they’d move to the bed, where Buck would tease his senses. If Eddie got hard, Buck might jerk him off. Otherwise, that would be it for tonight.

So very soft. Nothing hardcore.

Eddie finally heard footsteps on the stairs. His instinct was to look up—to see if Buck had been undressing, or what the hell he’d been doing down there. Maybe he’d been getting something?

But Buck immediately made a low sound of disapproval in his throat.

“Eyes on the floor, sweetheart.”

Eddie looked down again, heart pounding. He had caught a glimpse—Buck was still in jeans and socks, though Eddie wasn’t sure about the rest. He was more naked than Buck, which made him feel… a certain kind of way. It was embarrassing, but not in a bad way.

“Tell me your safewords, Eddie.”

“Green for keep going, yellow for pause, red for stop. Safeword to end the scene.”

“For end of the scene…?”

“Sir,” Eddie said immediately. And for a brief moment, he felt like a soldier again. Which was… weird. Because he had never felt this kind of thrill taking orders in the Army. Or when he used to call his superiors Sir. But with Buck… He had been looking forward to it.

He sensed Buck moving and felt him settle behind him, one leg outstretched on either side of Eddie’s body.

“I’m going to blindfold you. Color?”

“Green, sir,” Eddie breathed.

Buck’s hands appeared in Eddie’s peripheral vision, followed by the soft cloth of the blindfold—and then, darkness.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Buck whispered, his breath warm against Eddie’s ear and cheek.

Eddie swallowed. His hands shook a little, even as they rested, palms-up, on his thighs.

Buck pulled him gently back until Eddie was resting against his chest. One arm wrapped around his chest, holding him in place, while Buck’s other hand intertwined with Eddie’s.

“Do you feel me breathing?” Buck asked.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie mumbled. He could. He found himself unconsciously syncing his breath to Buck’s—inhale when he inhaled, exhale when he exhaled.

“Do you feel the soft blindfold on your cheekbones?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you feel my fingers between yours?”

Eddie hummed softly in response.

“Do you feel my arm brushing against your nipples?”

That one made him bite his lip. Because now that Buck said it, yes—he did. His nipples were already hard, partly from being undressed, but also from the scene itself. And his nipples, unfortunately, were very sensitive.

Buck shifted just slightly, stroking against Eddie’s chest.

A needy, breathy whimper escaped Eddie before he could stop it. Something raw. Unexpected. Something he never thought would come out of his mouth.

“I need verbal answers, Eddie,” Buck said firmly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Let’s get you on the bed, baby.”

Eddie swallowed at the pet name and let Buck help him up. His body felt boneless, relaxed. Exactly as Buck had intended.

Eddie felt the sheets against his skin, the pillow beneath his head. He didn’t hear or see Buck, but only a few heartbeats later, his fingers were on Eddie’s body—tracing invisible patterns across his torso, over his shoulders, down his arms, along his thighs and legs.

Every spot he touched lit Eddie’s nerves on fire, sending sparks straight to the coil in his stomach. He hadn’t been this turned on by so little since maybe his teenage years. But it wasn’t just the touch—it was the anticipation. The not knowing what Buck would do next. The trust.

Because Eddie knew, no matter what happened, Buck would take care of him.

He felt a finger press over the bulge in his underwear. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but it was already more than he’d had in the last few months with Marisol.

A gasp escaped his lips as Buck traced the outline of his cock through the fabric. His hips bucked on instinct—and suddenly, Buck’s hand was gone and everything went completely silent again. No rustling of sheets. No skin on skin.

“Buck?” Eddie whispered.

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

Oh.

Eddie swallowed.

“Did I?”

“No, sir,” he replied, voice small. He swallowed again. Had he messed up?

“Did I tell you to move your hips?” Buck’s voice was deeper now, commanding, rougher around the edges.

Eddie’s heart pounded. “No, sir.”

Silence. Then the bed dipped beside him, and Buck’s lips brushed his ear.

“I’ll let it slide this once. You’re new, and I’m a kind man. But do something again without permission, and you won’t be able to sit straight tomorrow.”

The words shot straight to Eddie’s cock. It was pathetic. He knew that. And yet… something inside him wanted to test the boundaries.

He didn’t.

“Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie breathed.

Without another word, Buck pressed a kiss to his neck, followed by his tongue. Every place his fingers had touched before, his tongue now followed—slow, deliberate strokes, as if Eddie were a canvas and Buck was painting something sacred.

Within minutes, Eddie was a panting mess. He couldn’t hold back the gasps, no matter how hard he tried. When Buck’s tongue flicked over his left nipple, then grazed it with his teeth, Eddie bit his lip to muffle the moans.

But Buck wasn’t having that.

A thumb pulled his lip free.

“I want to hear you.”

Then two fingers slipped into Eddie’s mouth.

“Suck, pretty boy.”

Eddie’s heart galloped. But he obeyed—he wasn’t quite ready to find out what Buck would do if he didn’t. He closed his lips around the fingers, sucked, hollowed his cheeks. He swirled his tongue around them, and without warning, imagined it was Buck’s cock.

The thought made him flinch.

Buck retreated his fingers.

“Color, Eddie?”

Because… was that what he wanted? Had he always wanted this? Dick in his mouth? Dick up his ass? Was this just Buck? Or had he lied to every woman he’d ever dated? Lied to himself?

A warm hand cradled his face.

“Do you need a moment, Eddie? Give me a color, sweetheart.”

The words grounded him, pulling him out of his head.

“Yellow,” he whispered, swallowing. “Sorry.”

“No,” Buck said firmly. “No ‘sorry.’ Are you okay keeping the blindfold on?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said with more certainty. “I just need a second. It’s all…”

Buck didn’t finish the thought for him.

“…a bit overwhelming,” Eddie said after a beat. “All new.”

Buck hummed, thumb brushing gently along Eddie’s jaw. Blushing, Eddie leaned into his touch.

“Give me a new color whenever you’re ready. Green or red, your choice.”

Definitely not red.

He was enjoying this far too much. Existential crisis and Catholic guilt could wait.

After a few quiet moments, where Eddie kept nuzzling against Buck’s hand, he said, “Green.”

“Good boy.”

And then—cold. Cold, cold, cold.

Eddie shrieked. The warmth was gone, and in its place something icy slid over his nipple.

An ice cube. It had to be.

Then Buck’s tongue followed, warming the skin again. He repeated the process—cold and hot, sting and soothe—on the other nipple.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groaned.

He had never been this turned on in his life. His whole body was alive, hyperaware. Buck brought him up, cooled him down, then brought him even higher. Again and again.

The ice trailed lower, down his torso, circling his belly button. Buck’s tongue followed, lapping up the water that dripped there. Then the ice moved lower, halting just above the waistband of his underwear.

Eddie’s hips jerked.

Oh, shit.

“I— Sorry, sorry,” he blurted out.

Buck didn’t say anything. Eddie only heard the shift of sheets. The soft clinking of ice cubes.

Buck had moved off the bed.

Eddie strained to hear something—anything—beyond the thunder of his own heartbeat and the rushing pulse in his ears. The silence around him felt pressurized, like the calm before a storm.

Then came Buck’s touch—rough and sure, fingers that had seen almost a decade of rescues, scars, and late-night calluses. Hands that didn’t just reach for Eddie, but claimed him.

Eddie barely registered the shift before gravity tilted and he was moving—half-carried, half-dragged, until his chest hit the edge of the bed and his hips were pulled into Buck’s lap. He landed with a soft grunt, disoriented but not afraid. Never afraid of Buck.

He’d known Buck was strong—of course he had—but this kind of casual strength? The effortless way Buck moved him like he weighed nothing? Dios mío. His breath caught somewhere between awe and arousal.

"You moved again without permission," Buck’s voice was a quiet warning, deep and coaxing, as his hand landed firm and possessive on Eddie’s ass.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Eddie said, voice tight with anticipation.

“Bad boy,” Buck murmured, a dangerous edge curling around the words as his palm smoothed over the fabric of Eddie’s boxers, slow and measured. “And bad boys get punished.”

Eddie’s heartbeat picked up, loud and fast and desperate to escape his chest. His mouth went dry. His mind—spinning.

“What have I told you would happen?” Buck asked, his tone infuriatingly calm.

“I—You—” Eddie swallowed hard. “I won’t be able to sit straight tomorrow.”

“Exactly.” Buck’s fingers dipped just under the waistband now, brushing against overheated skin, close—so close—to where Eddie already ached.

“I’ll take these off,” Buck continued, almost casually, “and give you ten. Very generous of me, no?”

Eddie bit his lip, face burning, arousal sharp in his gut. He shouldn’t want this as much as he did—but God, he did.

“Color, Eddie?”

“G-green, sir,” he managed, barely above a whisper.

“Good boy. Count for me.”

Buck tugged down the boxers, slow and purposeful, until Eddie was bare. He felt air kiss his skin, his ass fully exposed. His face flushed deeper, heat crawling down his neck and chest. Fuck.

“Such a pretty ass,” Buck muttered, and then his hand was back, this time skin to skin. The warm weight of his palm soothed, kneaded, teased. Eddie couldn’t help the way his cock twitched, pressing uselessly into Buck’s thigh.

The first smack came without warning—a sharp, echoing crack that startled a gasp out of him. Eddie jolted forward with the impact, hips grinding involuntarily. His cock throbbed, aching with need.

“Fuck,” he groaned, face pressed against the mattress. He could feel the heat blooming on his cheek where Buck’s hand had landed, imagined the red print it left behind.

“Is that how the numeral system starts nowadays?” Buck teased.

If Eddie wasn’t so overwhelmed, he might’ve laughed. Instead, he gritted out, “One.”

The second came quick, still jarring. His body reacted before his mind caught up—another rock forward, a whimper caught in his throat.

“Two.”

Buck rubbed soothing circles into his skin, letting the warmth return. Then—three sharp strikes in quick succession.

“Three, four…five,” Eddie gasped out, voice cracking around the last number. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Tears pricked behind his eyes—not from pain exactly, but from the overwhelming flood of sensation. From how good it felt. Buck leaned in, pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, and Eddie actually felt a tear slip down his cheek.

“Such a good boy, taking your punishment, hmm?” Buck murmured against his skin, voice low and reverent.

The next smack came just as Eddie braced for it—crack, and his world narrowed to the sting, the sound, the feeling of Buck grounding him.

“S-six, sir.”

Seven and eight landed lower—just beneath the swell of his ass, on the tender backs of his thighs. Eddie jerked and hissed; those ones hurt more. They should hurt—he deserved it.

His thoughts began to float, unmoored. The pain, the heat, the trust—it all blurred together until Eddie was weightless.

“Nine,” he whispered, voice stripped bare. “Ten.”

Silence settled again, heavy and warm like a blanket. He didn’t feel the sting anymore—only the calm that followed. His body trembled slightly, but inside, he was still. It was just silent, peaceful. He was with Buck and Buck would take care of him.

Buck’s lips pressed two soft kisses, one to each aching cheek, and then he pulled Eddie up into his lap. Gentle arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Eddie let himself be folded in.

The blindfold came off and he blinked against the dim light, the soft haze in the room a contrast to the sharpness of sensation moments ago. But Buck was there, eyes steady and hands sure.

Eddie knew, in that moment, he’d never feel safer than in the aftermath of Buck’s storm.

“Hey, there you are,” Buck hummed, smiling at him. “Color?”

“Green, sir,” Eddie said.

Buck looked him over. “You with me, Eds?”

Eddie hummed, leaning heavily against Buck’s chest. “Just sleepy,” he mumbled. “Did I do good?”

“You did very good, sweetheart,” Buck cooed. “Which is why you get to choose: do you want to sleep, or do you want an orgasm?”

Eddie blinked the haze away. That’s when he noticed the wet mess of his leaking cock against his belly. He was painfully hard.

Buck let out a huff of laughter—probably at Eddie’s eagerness. “I probably shouldn’t have even asked. So, orgasm, then you’ll lie down on the bed and I’ll smear some cream on your ass, and then sleep. Sound like a plan?”

Eddie nodded. “Green.”

Buck placed Eddie on the bed next to him, and Eddie mourned the loss of touch immediately. But then his mouth started to water as Buck removed his shirt and jeans and leaned back against the headboard, legs spread.

“Crawl to me, baby.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. He bit his lip and obeyed. Buck’s pupils were blown wide, the blue of his irises nearly eclipsed.

“Sweet baby,” Buck murmured. For a moment, they grinned at one another. The soft hum of the city filtered in through the cracked window, filling the quiet between them. Eddie kept crawling, closer and closer—but still not close enough.

Buck’s fingers twitched against the sheets, and a few crawl-steps later, Eddie understood why. Buck grabbed him by the neck and crashed their mouths together.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, but he kissed back immediately. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t shy. It was years of unspoken words pressed into the curve of Buck’s mouth—hot, deep, possessive. Eddie responded with a small moan, grabbing Buck’s broad shoulders for support.

Buck pushed Eddie onto his back without breaking the kiss. He pressed himself against him—chest to chest, heart to heart, erection to clothed erection. Then the kiss turned hungrier. Buck’s tongue slid against Eddie’s with an urgency that made Eddie realize: the whole scene hadn’t just been for his pleasure. Buck had been enjoying it too.

When Buck finally pulled back, Eddie chased him, unwilling to lose contact—not now, not again. He had never felt like this before.

“Easy, baby,” Buck hummed, pushing Eddie back down and hovering over him. “I’m going to sit back. You’re going to sit between my legs. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Eddie licked his lips.

They moved quickly. Before Eddie knew it, Buck had warmed lube in his hand and wrapped his fist around Eddie’s leaking cock. Eddie had never seen such a manly hand around his cock—aside from his own. Manly was the only word that came to mind.

His vision went white as he leaned back against Buck’s chest.

“You’ve been so good today, sweetheart,” Buck praised. “Even took your punishment so well.”

Eddie beamed, moans spilling from his lips as Buck set a relentless pace. Buck hooked his ankles around Eddie’s, spreading him open. Even if Eddie had wanted to be shy, he couldn’t—not with the way Buck had him displayed, fully accessible. That thought sparked a chain of vivid images: Buck forcing his legs apart. Buck bending him over any surface in the house. Buck tying him down, unable to move, completely at Buck’s mercy.

Fuck. Eddie wanted Buck to be rough.

“Harder,” he gasped. “Please, sir. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Buck put his arm to work. Eddie’s vision went white again as he came, hot spur after hot spur landing on Buck’s hand, his own stomach, the bed. Buck didn’t stop—he kept milking him, even after Eddie was spent, dragging a few more tugs out of him that made Eddie’s entire body twitch and tremble with overstimulation.

A groan tore from him, raw and overwhelming.

Buck hummed. “One day, we’re going to see how many orgasms you can give me.”

Eddie couldn’t speak. He could only slump back against Buck.

“Eddie, how are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Good,” he slurred, blinking slower now, exhaustion setting in like a heavy blanket.

“Good,” Buck echoed, gently guiding him to lie on his stomach.

Eddie wanted to protest Buck leaving—but he didn’t have the energy. Even though the scene hadn’t been intense by BDSM standards, it had been for him.

He hovered between consciousness and unconsciousness, barely tethered to the world. He felt Buck follow through on every promise: making him drink some water, cleaning up the mess, rubbing cream into his ass. The second Buck massaged it in, the sting returned—he’d definitely have trouble sitting tomorrow.

Thank God they were off for another two days.

He was dimly aware when Buck came back to lie beside him, spooning him. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He couldn’t. But he felt it. All of it.

“Sweet dreams, Eds.”

Chapter Text

Buck hadn’t slept. At all.

Instead, he’d made scones. And fruit salad. And eggs. And basically everything in the kitchen that would keep his hands moving and his brain from spiraling. Because upstairs—up his stairs—Eddie was still in his bed, and Buck was this close to imploding.

They’d done it. Really done a scene. Eddie had asked, and Buck had said yes, and then Buck had kissed him. Had put his hands all over him. Had made Eddie moan and beg and blush. And somewhere between the kissing and the spanking and Eddie coming apart in his hands, Buck had lost the ability to deny that he was completely and utterly in love with his best friend.

He hissed as he burned his finger on a hot dish. “Fuck.”

“Under the faucet.”

Buck froze. Eddie’s voice—rough from sleep—somehow managed to startle him more than the pain. He obeyed though, slipping his finger beneath the water, shoulders tight, trying to act casual.

“Morning,” he mumbled, half turning.

Eddie was rubbing his eyes as he shuffled in, loose-limbed and sore in a way that made Buck’s stomach flip. He sat down and immediately winced, lifting off the chair with a grunt.

Oh, fuck. That was hot.

The image of Eddie’s abused and red ass would never leave Buck’s mind. He’d jerk off to it for eternity.

“You weren’t kidding,” Eddie muttered, lowering himself carefully back down. His face was sour. His ass cheeks must really hurt. And Buck had taken it easy on him!

He grinned. “You good there, Eddie?”

A raised brow. A flushed face. Eddie didn’t answer—just gave Buck a look and then pointedly glanced at his still-burned finger. He could basically hear the You good there, Buck?

Buck shrugged and turned off the water. “Go clean up. Breakfast is almost ready.”

When Eddie came back, damp-haired and dressed in fresh clothes, Buck handed him coffee just the way he liked it. He had laid out the table like they were two normal guys having a normal breakfast. Except there was nothing normal about what had happened between them, and Buck couldn’t stop seeing the way Eddie had looked at him last night. Couldn’t stop wanting him. Wanting more.

But he couldn’t. Eddie was his best friend. The best friend he wanted to fuck so badly.

Buck breathed out, taking a sip from his tea as he sat down opposite Eddie. The silence stretched as they ate. Eddie had his thinking face on—slightly scrunched brow, frown lines pulling at the corners of his mouth, eyes unfocused as they stared at nothing.

“How are you feeling?” Buck finally asked.

Eddie didn’t look up. “Good.”

That wasn’t good enough. Buck filled both their plates again, trying to keep his tone light.

“This doesn’t have to be awkward,” he said. “What we did? Totally normal. Did you know in 1700s France, aristocrats used to have custom spanking furniture? Like, full-on carved oak masterpieces just for getting whipped. I read that on a weird history thread at 2 a.m. once”

Eddie blinked at him. “Of course you did.”

Buck grinned, pleased when Eddie mirrored the expression a second later.

Yeah, they’d be just fine. They were Buck and Eddie. Nothing had changed.

“So... how long’s Chris at his friend’s?” Buck asked.

“He’ll be back tonight. Why?”

“We still need to talk about the scene.”

Eddie sighed, already annoyed. “Why?”

Buck huffed out a smile at his clear annoyance. Eddie just wanted to put this away and never talk about it again. But Buck would make him. Not only for himself, but also for Eddie.

“Because I know you’re not gonna unpack this with Frank,” Buck said, sipping his tea.

The look Eddie gave him could’ve curdled milk.

“Okay,” Eddie muttered. “What do you want to know?”

Buck hesitated, then launched into it. “What do you think of it? Did you like it? Are there parts you didn’t like now that you look back on it? Do you regret it?”

Did you mean it when you said you didn’t want me to scene with anyone?

Do you want to do it again?

Do you want… me?

“It was fine,” Eddie said with a shrug.

Buck groaned, dropping his head on the table with a thump. “You’re impossible.” Then something came to mind, and he whipped his head up again, almost giving himself a whiplash. “Okay—yes or no only.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Hit me.”

Buck smirked. “You sure you want more?”

Eddie flushed deep red. “Just ask.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

Buck exhaled.

Finally—finally—a clear answer.

He leaned back in his chair, hands cradling his mug like it was an anchor. He stared at Eddie, who was very pointedly focused on slicing his scone in half, as if it required surgical precision.

“So,” Buck started casually, too casually, “on a scale of one to ‘I want to crawl out of my skin,’ how awkward is this breakfast for you?”

Eddie snorted. “Mild cringe. You’re doing great, by the way.”

“I burned myself.”

“You burn yourself twice a week.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, I was distracted by the man whose ass I spanked last night sitting at my kitchen table eating scones.”

Eddie froze mid-bite.

Buck grinned like a man who’d decided to lean straight into the chaos. “Oh, no. Was that too much? Should I not say spanked? Should I say—what do they call it? Applied manual impact therapy?”

Eddie choked on his coffee.

Buck reached over with a napkin, trying not to look too smug. “Okay, okay, real talk—did it feel weird waking up in my bed?”

Eddie swallowed carefully. “Not… weird. Just… new.”

Buck tapped the rim of his mug, considering. “Right. New. Totally. Super chill. Very casual. So casual I made you a full continental breakfast to mask the fact I’m screaming inside.”

“You’re not screaming,” Eddie said flatly.

“I am. On the inside. Like, full-on horror movie screaming. Ghostface-level screaming.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m unwell, Eddie!”

Eddie’s lips twitched, betraying the faintest laugh. “I can tell.”

Buck leaned in, eyes dancing. “Okay, another yes-or-no question.”

Eddie gave him a wary look. “We’re doing that again?”

“Oh, we are. I have a list now. Buckley’s Very Normal Post-Kink Inquiry Checklist™.”

“Oh my God.”

“Question one,” Buck said, holding up a finger. “Do you want me to stop talking?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad. Question two: Did it turn you on when I called you good last night?”

Eddie’s jaw visibly clenched. He stabbed a piece of fruit with unnecessary force.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Buck whispered dramatically. “Okay. Question three: hypothetically, if I told you I’ve replayed last night in my head like, forty-seven times since 2 a.m.—and I mean, frame by frame—would you think I’m pathetic or emotionally constipated?”

“Both.”

“Wow. Hurtful and accurate. Then again, would take one to know one.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but there was a flush creeping down his neck now, a softness in his posture that hadn’t been there before. He was relaxing—finally.

“Okay, your turn,” Buck said, sitting back and raising both brows expectantly. “Ask me something.”

Eddie eyed him like he was trying to decide whether to humor him or strangle him with the dish towel. He eventually went with: “Alright. Fine. Did you mean it when you said I was good?”

Buck didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

The answer came too quick, too easy. Because he had meant it. Every word. Every praise he’d whispered or growled or moaned into Eddie’s skin had come from some raw, honest place Buck hadn’t even realized he had access to until last night.

Eddie looked down at his plate, quiet for a second too long. Then: “Okay.”

“That’s it?” Buck asked. “Just okay?”

“What else am I supposed to say?” Eddie asked, glancing up. “You said I was good. I believe you. I… liked hearing it.”

Buck bit down on a grin that felt a little too proud. “So noted. I’ll add it to the checklist under ‘verbal praise kink—confirmed.’”

“You are never allowed to say that phrase again,” Eddie said, pointing his fork like a weapon.

Buck waggled his eyebrows. “You didn’t say no.”

Eddie groaned and shoved another bite of egg into his mouth, like maybe chewing would save him from the conversation spiraling even further into the abyss.

“Okay, okay,” Buck said, holding up both hands in surrender. “No more checklist. I’ll be serious.”

Eddie gave him a side-eye so intense it could’ve cut glass. “You? Serious?”

“I can be serious.”

“You said Ghostface was screaming in your soul like five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well, he is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also be serious.”

Eddie just shook his head, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth again, the beginnings of another smile. And that was good. That was what Buck was going for. Keep things light. Keep things normal. Let the dust settle before anything else complicated it all again.

They lapsed into a silence that was less tense this time, filled with clinks of forks and the hum of the fridge. Buck thought about letting it lie. Letting the moment pass. But something about the quiet made the need to speak louder. More urgent.

“Do you…” he started, then cleared his throat. “Would you like to scene again?”

Buck purposely didn’t ask him if he wanted to do another scene with him. He wasn’t sure he’d survive that without blurting out that he loved him. Besides, even though last night was a bit blurry, it didn’t mean Eddie wasn’t straight. Maybe he was just experimenting. Maybe he just wanted to do a first scene with Buck because he knew him and he trusted him.

Eddie set down his coffee slowly. Didn’t answer right away.

Buck kept his gaze locked on Eddie. “Just asking. No pressure. No expectations. I just… think you liked it.”

Eddie huffed a laugh under his breath, watching Buck—soft, careful.

“I think,” Eddie said slowly, “we… shouldn’t talk about it over scones.”

Buck blinked. “Not a scone guy?”

“Not a kink debrief over baked goods guy.”

Buck snorted. “Okay, fair. What are you then? ‘Let’s unpack it over tactical gear and brooding silence’ guy?”

Eddie shrugged. “That works.”

They both laughed.

“Anyways, I know doms who are safe. Respectful. Communicate well. All that textbook stuff,” Buck said, missing the way Eddie’s face fell. “Let me know when you want to get into contact with them.”

And that was maybe the first real moment where Buck let himself breathe—deep and full and with a little less panic clawing at his ribs.

No love confessions. No dramatic declarations. Just Buck and Eddie. Navigating something new in the only way they knew how: with teasing, awkward breakfasts, and the hope of maybe doing it again.

*

The call came through the radio just as Buck was finishing his coffee. “Possible entrapment, apartment 4B. Couple involved. Proceed with caution.”

Which wouldn’t be so crazy, hadn’t Cap asked for more details. Dispatch dropped something about a bondage situation. Not a hostage situation. A bondage situation.

Buck could feel Eddie’s eyes on him, but he pointedly didn’t look at him. Their bond was back to how it was before the scene and Eddie had only asked for one scene. Buck was the stupid one who had asked if Eddie wanted more. Well, his answer was very clear.

There had been no answer. Which said enough.

They arrived at the apartment just past noon — the kind of quiet, overcast LA day where you’d expect maybe a gas leak or a kitchen fire. Not this.

Cap knocked twice before pushing the door open. “LAFD! Anyone call for—?”

The scene froze them all mid-step.

In the center of the room was a man, early thirties, face redder than a stop sign, currently suspended in what could only be described as an ambitious DIY bondage swing. He was hanging by the wrists and thighs, supported by padded straps and a complex system of knots that would’ve impressed a sailing instructor. A flustered woman in a silk robe hovered nearby, biting her lip hard enough it looked like it hurt.

“Oh my God,” she blurted, “he said he knew how to get out of it!”

The guy groaned. “I thought I did.”

Hen recovered first, already moving toward the couple with her bag. “Let’s check vitals before we laugh too hard.”

“Any injuries?” Cap asked, voice steady but with that sharp edge that meant let’s keep it moving.

“He’s fine,” the woman said quickly. “Just can’t feel his toes and won’t stop yelling about his shoulders.”

Cap nodded, already gesturing. “Hen, Chim — medical. Buck—?”

Buck blinked. “I mean, it’s a lot of tension around the rotator cuffs. If we loosen the center strap and shift pressure from the carabiner here—” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing everyone was looking at him.

Cap raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve got experience.”

Buck cleared his throat. “I mean… enough to know a poorly rigged anchor when I see one.”

Cap didn’t hesitate. “Alright, Buck, you’re in charge of the disentanglement. Ravi, assist him. Hen, Chim, check him over for nerve compression.”

Eddie stayed near the door, arms crossed, trying and failing to look at anything other than the floor. His ears were almost purple.

Buck passed him with a flicker of amusement. “You okay?”

Eddie nodded too fast. “Fine.”

“Right,” Buck said under his breath, turning back to the suspended man. “Okay, Ravi, I need you to support under his legs while I loosen this knot—no, not that one. Trust me, it’ll tighten everything if you yank that.”

Ravi followed directions without question, glancing at Buck with open curiosity. “You really do know what you’re doing. I mean, like really know.”

Chim snorted behind them. “Yeah, not gonna lie, Buck, this is either very impressive or very concerning.”

Hen rolled her eyes but smiled. “Vital signs are steady. No signs of circulation loss, just some embarrassment.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chim said, shooting a look toward Eddie. “Yo, Diaz, you okay back there? You’re redder than the emergency lights. Didn’t know you were such a prude.”

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not— It’s just warm in here.”

“Sure, buddy,” Chim said, grinning. “Warm. Right.”

Buck fought a smirk as he worked the last strap free. The man collapsed gratefully into Ravi’s arms, groaning but clearly relieved.

“All good,” Buck said, stepping back. “Situation de-escalated. No damage except to someone’s ego.”

Cap gave a nod of approval. “Nice work, Buck. And thank you for not making me ask where you learned that.”

Buck chuckled. “Appreciate that, Cap.”

As they packed up and filed out, Buck let his shoulder nudge Eddie’s lightly. “You really okay?”

Eddie muttered, “I hate everything about today.”

Buck grinned. “Yeah, me too. But admit it — I nailed those knots.”

Eddie didn’t answer as he went to hold the gurney steady for the man. They still wanted to check him out at the hospital.

*

“Everything okay between you and Eddie?” Hen asked later in the shift as she slid onto the couch beside Buck.

He didn’t answer right away. The TV flickered in front of them, tuned to the news, but Buck wasn’t watching. Not really. His eyes were on the screen, but his thoughts were elsewhere—looping back to Eddie. Or more specifically, Eddie’s sudden distance.

They hadn’t really spoken all day. Not properly. Not the way they usually did. Normally he sat down opposite Buck in the engine, but today he sat anywhere but there. Eddie had kept to himself, only saying what he had to, avoiding Buck like he was contagious. And the thing was—there hadn’t been a fight. No blow-up. No awkward aftermath.

In fact, everything had felt… good. Better than good. They’d talked that morning, cleared the air. Then they'd gamed, laughed. Eddie had gone home to Chris. The next evening, the threesome had had dinner at Buck’s place, which had felt familiar. Easy. Normal.

But today? It was like someone had flipped a switch. Something had changed. It couldn’t be their scene—everything had been fine. There had to be something else and Buck couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Earth to Buckaroo,” Hen said, waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinked, snapping out of it. “Sorry. Zoned out. What were you saying?”

Hen studied him, head tilted slightly, as if trying to see into his mind. “I asked if everything’s okay with you and Eddie.”

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course. Why?”

She didn’t say anything at first, just kept looking at him with that quiet, perceptive Hen kind of look. “You two are usually attached at the hip,” she said slowly, then pointedly looked around. “And today…”

Eddie wasn’t even on the same floor. Buck followed her gaze and frowned. He had no idea where he was.

Hen didn’t say anything right away. She just kept watching him in that quiet, knowing way that made Buck feel like his thoughts were printed across his forehead.

He sighed. “I don’t know,” he finally said, voice low. “We were fine. I mean—more than fine. And then today he’s... avoiding me.”

Hen hummed thoughtfully. “Did something happen?”

Buck hesitated. “No. I mean, not really.” He wasn’t sure if the pause gave him away.

Hen raised an eyebrow. “Not really?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “We talked. Cleared the air about… stuff.” He wasn’t lying, not exactly. Just leaving things out. Important things. The kind you couldn’t say out loud unless you were ready for everything to change.

“Then what do you think happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, softer this time. “It’s like... he woke up and rewrote the rules and forgot to tell me.”

Hen leaned back, considering that. “Sometimes people freak out when things matter more than they expected,” she said gently. “Doesn’t mean it’s broken. Just means it’s real.”

Buck’s throat tightened. “Yeah. Well. Real hurts.”

Hen offered a small, sad smile. “Most things worth having do.”

Buck didn’t answer. He just stared at the screen again, the news still rolling, meaningless in the background. And somewhere out of sight, Eddie was still gone.

Before Hen could say more, her radio crackled. Chimney’s voice came through, a little harried: “Hen, you around? I could use a hand in the bay.”

She gave Buck one last glance, like she didn’t quite want to leave him, but then she stood. “Gotta go. You good?”

Buck nodded automatically. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She didn’t believe him, he could tell. But she didn’t push. She just patted his shoulder and jogged off.

The room felt heavier the second she was gone. Like the silence had weight.

Buck leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the TV without seeing it.

We were fine.

He ran the words over again and again, searching them for cracks. For lies. For something he missed. Eddie hadn’t flinched away from him. Hadn’t looked scared. He’d smiled, even. He’d relaxed.

And Buck had asked. Explicitly. That morning, in the soft quiet after everything, he’d asked if Eddie was okay. If Buck had crossed a line. If anything had felt wrong.

Eddie had said no. He’d said, “I’m good.”

So why the radio silence now?

Buck rubbed his face with both hands, trying to scrub the tightness from his chest. But it didn’t budge. Instead, a cold thread of panic wound its way through his gut.

What if he had pushed too far?

What if there had been a moment—tiny, quiet, invisible—where Eddie hadn’t felt safe and Buck missed it? What if he’d read the cues wrong? What if he’d been too focused on doing everything right that he hadn’t noticed something had gone wrong?

What if, without realizing, he’d hurt Eddie?

The thought made his stomach twist.

You’re not good at this, something mean inside him whispered. You play confident, but you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. You’re not like that—you don’t have the control, the steadiness. You ruin things. You always ruin things.

Buck swallowed hard, jaw clenched.

He’d been so careful. He’d asked for consent, over and over. Had checked in before, during, after. He’d listened.

So then why wouldn’t Eddie just talk to him?

That thought sparked something sharper. Angrier.

Because they always talked. That was their thing. No matter what was going on, they said it. Out loud. No games. No walls.

And Buck had asked—not just once. Multiple times. That morning. The next day. Today, during their shift. He’d even texted later that week when something felt off, asking again if everything was okay.

And Eddie had said yes. Every time.

So what the hell was Buck supposed to do now? Just sit here, slowly unraveling, while Eddie avoided him like the plague?

His fists tightened. Nails digging into his palms.

If something was wrong, Eddie should’ve said so.

They promised each other honesty.

*

The locker room was nearly empty when Buck walked in, the sound of his boots echoing against the tile. The shift was over, but he hadn’t rushed to change. He needed space. Air. Time to get his thoughts under control—he had never felt so insecure in his role as a dom before.

When he turned the corner, of course—of course—Eddie was still there, back to him, changing his shirt in that maddeningly calm way, like nothing was wrong.

But something was wrong. And he still couldn’t figure out what it was. Or why he seemed to be the only one going insane.

Buck didn’t mean to speak. Not really. But the words broke out, ragged and too loud in the stillness.

“Are you seriously gonna keep pretending everything’s fine?”

Eddie froze for a moment, before turning around, his t-shirt still half on, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you talking about?”

Buck scoffed out a laugh. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m imagining it. You’ve been avoiding me all shift.”

“I haven’t—”

“You wouldn’t even sit across from me in the engine!” Buck snapped, sounding utterly ridicoulous, but that was aside the point. “You barely talk to me unless you have to. And I—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “I just don’t understand.”

Eddie’s mouth opened, then closed.

Buck took a shaky breath, because he had tried his best to make everything good for Eddie. So, why did it not feel good for himself? His voice was softer when he said, “I asked you, Eddie. I asked you so many times if you were okay. If we were okay. If I did something wrong. You said everything's fine. So, what changed?”

Eddie looked away, swallowing visibly, his jaw working. He didn’t speak.

Buck stepped forward, his voice trembling now. “Because if I crossed a line, if I hurt you somehow, if I wasn’t—if I fucked it all up, just tell me. Don’t leave me hanging like this. You don’t get to shut down and pretend nothing happened while I spiral wondering if I ruined the most important thing in my life.”

Eddie flinched at that, and he looked back at Buck. Buck’s eyes were stinging now.

“I thought you trusted me.” And that was it. The thought that Eddie didn’t feel like he could speak to Buck anymore. It tore his heart apart.

“I do,” Eddie said, finally—quiet and fast, like he hadn’t meant to let it out. He looked past Buck at something in the bay. “I do trust you.”

“Then what is it?” Buck demanded, exhaustion taking over. “What did I do wrong?”

Eddie met his eyes again, and something in his gaze cracked. Vulnerability poured out of it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, voice soft. “That’s the problem.”

Buck stared at him, confused. “What do you mean, that’s the problem?”

Eddie let out a breath through his nose, like he was trying not to let it turn into something else—something messier. He turned away, leaned back against the lockers, crossed his arms over his chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated, more controlled this time. “You did everything right.”

“Okay,” Buck said slowly, still not understanding, still burning. “So why are you treating me like I’m radioactive?”

Eddie didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, like he was chewing on something too big to say.

Buck stepped even closer. “You don’t get to just leave me in the dark, man. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after last week.”

Eddie’s voice was low when it finally came. “Because I don’t know how to act normal around you right now.”

Buck blinked.

“I thought I could,” Eddie went on, still not looking at him. “Thought I could come in, do the job, joke around like always. But I can’t.” He let out a shaky breath. “I keep thinking about it. About the fact that you—That we—” He cut himself off, shook his head. “It was a line I didn’t think we’d cross. And we did. And now I’m… just trying to get my footing again.”

Buck stared at him. “So you’re avoiding me because you’re overwhelmed?”

Eddie winced, just slightly.

“You could’ve said that,” Buck said, quieter now, the anger cooling into something heavier. “You could’ve told me. Instead of making me think I messed up. That I wasn’t good enough. That I hurt you.”

Eddie finally looked at him, and Buck hated how wrecked he looked—like he’d been carrying something too heavy and didn’t know where to set it down.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he said. “I’m just figuring it out. That’s all.”

“Well,” Buck said, stepping back, dragging a hand through his hair, “maybe next time, figure it out with me. That’s how this works.”

They stood in silence for a beat.

Eddie gave a short nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t closure. But it was honest. And suddenly it made sense.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” he hummed, finishing changing into his own clothes.

“Have you ever done something before with another guy before last week?”

Buck could see Eddie’s cheek warm. “Nope,” he said, slamming his locker shut. “See you tomorrow, Buck.” And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

Eddie was still shaking from his conversation with Buck. He had never meant for Buck to feel that way. He really hadn’t. He still couldn’t quiet grasp why Buck cared so much about being a good dom.

He massaged the shampoo into his head, a shuddering breath leaving his mouth. A year ago, he’d ask Marisol to join him in the shower. They’d have good shower sex and he’d feed her ice cream after.

Now… he was trying to get his mind to be as silent as it was that night with Buck. He didn’t want to think about Buck. He didn’t want to think about what it meant that he wanted more—needed more.

But he had hurt Buck. Buck had been on the verge of crying, and Eddie barely understood why. Why had he been so insecure? Why had he worried like that?

You don’t get to shut down and pretend nothing happened while I spiral wondering if I ruined the most important thing in my life.

The most important thing in Buck’s life… He must have exaggerated, right? Their friendship could not be the most important thing in his life.

Eddie sighed, standing under the stream of water.

“Dad!”

Another sight left Eddie’s mouth. He had expected to be able to take showers without interruptions now that Chris was a teenager.

“Yes, mijo?”

“Have you seen my sweatshirt?” Chris yelled back. “The green one.”

“Your closet, Chris.”

“I couldn’t find it, wait…”

Eddie could hear Chris walk back to his room, and then a muffled ‘found it!’. Which meant Eddie could go back to his thoughts.   

And Eddie knew it was a bad trait. He put everything in the box and put the lid on the box. And Frank had warned him several times now that the box would explode and not only take Eddie with it. Everyone around him would be blown up too.

But Eddie was not gay. He wasn’t. Why would he date women if he were gay? Why would he think they had beautiful eyes, or beautiful hair? Why would he choose ones that Chris really loved?

But Buck had beautiful eyes and beautiful hair too. And Chris loved him very much.

Eddie groaned, tilting his head upwards to the stream of water. He was not one for long showers, a trait he had picked up in the army, but today he could make an exception.

Day after day went by, and Eddie found his footing more and more. The night he had shared with Buck felt like a distant memory now. Something akin to a fever dream. A fluke in the system.

The days were filled with Cap’s ‘Buck, Eddie, saws and jaws’. Bets Buck and Eddie won at the 118. Fist-bumps. Eddie helping Buck cook for the team. Pranks they pulled off together. More fist-bumps. Dates with Christopher. Interesting facts tumbling from Buck’s lips. More fucking fist-bumps.

But Eddie felt alright with the fist-bumps, when he was alone at night he could give the scenarios a different ending. Ones where Buck yanked him forward, shoving his tongue down his throat. Others were Buck would push him into the maintenance closet and make Eddie suck his dick.

God. Eddie wanted to see Buck come. Even though Buck had had Eddie’s cum all over his hand and bed, Eddie had never seen Buck come. He wanted to know if Buck would curse, if he’d ramble, or if he’d go all slack faced and full body shudder.

The one thing Eddie couldn’t handle were Buck’s not so subtle days at the club. He’d come back full of energy, enthusiastic, bordering hyperactive. And Eddie hated it. He was jealous, which was not healthy, he knew that. He had asked for one scene with Buck, but he had also told him he didn’t want Buck to scene with anyone else.

And then Buck had the audacity to try to pawn him off to other doms?

Estúpido.

*

It started with one stupid question. One offhand remark from Hen while they all sat around the station kitchen table, too full from Chim’s terrible attempt at bulgogi to move and just bored enough to start talking. Cap was doing paperwork in his office, leaving the fivesome alone.

“So, Buck,” Hen said casually, stirring her tea. “What ever happened with that club you used to go to—you know, the one with...the ropes?”

Eddie didn’t look up from his coffee. He didn’t have to. The moment Hen opened that door, Buck practically lit up.

“Oh, you mean Crimson?”

Eddie wanted to stab something. Not someone—he wasn’t that far gone—but something. Like the table. Or the smug smile that was probably stretching across Buck’s face.

“Yeah,” Buck continued, “I still go. Not as often. It’s more of a release thing, you know? No expectations, no strings—well, except for the ones I use to tie people up.”

Hen laughed. Ravi blinked. Chim choked on his soda.

Ravi snapped his fingers, beaming. “That’s why you knew so much during that one case with the guy in the ropes!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course Ravi remembered that. Of course Buck remembered everything about knots and bindings and—what, sensations?

Chim wheezed beside him, laughing loudly at Ravi’s face. Buck’s cheeks were a little red, but he was grinning—his soft, crinkly-eyed, real grin.

Eddie took a slow sip of coffee, mostly to keep from throwing the mug across the room.

“Do you always tie them up?” Ravis asked.

Eddie's eyes snapped to Ravi like daggers. The fuck was he asking that for? Why did he care what Buck did with his hands and who he did it to?

Buck smirked, eyes twinkling. “Depends on the day. But last week, for example...”

And then Buck was off. He was glowing, goddamn it. His voice animated, his hands sketching invisible lines in the air—talking about knots and patterns and some kind of suspension rig that sounded a hell of a lot like a sex swing if Eddie was being honest. Everyone leaned in, like they were watching a documentary narrated by a hot National Geographic host.

Eddie stayed back, focused on his coffee.

He tried not to listen.

He tried.

But Buck’s voice carried. Every detail of that night—the way the rope felt, the trust involved, the person he had tied, what he’d say to them—was like a hammer to Eddie’s skull.

He felt stupid.

Stupid for sitting there with his jaw tight and his stomach twisting like Buck’s precious knots. Stupid for the way his chest clenched when Buck smiled about that other guy—Ronan? Ronan the good boy?

He hated Ronan.

He didn’t even know Ronan.

He hated this feeling. Hated how Buck’s happiness—his openness, his damn glow when talking about another man—felt like a punch to the gut.

It should’ve been me.

It should’ve been me letting Buck take control. It should’ve been Buck whispering in my ear, hands on my skin, rope digging into my wrists.

Not fucking Ronan.

“Wait,” Ravi said, wide-eyed. “People you barely know just let you tie them up? Aren’t they afraid you’d, like… leave them there?”

Buck laughed, and Eddie wanted to bottle the sound just so he could throw it off a cliff.

“Nah, trust is kind of the whole point. Ronan’s great. He’s got these—”

“Wow,” Eddie suddenly said, the bitterness in his voice leaking out before he could stop it. “Sounds like you and Ronan had a real connection.”

Silence.

Hen raised an eyebrow. Chim blinked. Buck’s hands dropped, mid-gesture. His mouth opened slightly in surprise.

Eddie met his eyes, and if looks could kill, his would’ve leveled half of L.A.

Drop it, his stare said.

Buck didn’t speak for a second. Then—careful, tentative—he said, “Uh…he’s just a guy. It’s not like that.”

Right.

Eddie gave a tight, fake smile that felt like it might crack his face in half. “Good for you, Buck. Glad someone’s out there for you.”

He stood up, not waiting for a response, because if he stayed even one second longer, he was going to say something he couldn’t take back.

He walked out of the kitchen, fists clenched, heart a live wire.

This feeling? It was poison. It was him coming undone, one thread at a time, and all because Buck had smiled for someone who wasn’t him. Because Buck had tied someone else down and whispered things Eddie would never get to hear.

The green monster in his chest wasn’t just stirring anymore. It was screaming.

And the worst part?

Buck didn’t even know what he was doing to him.

*

Father Brian took a sip from his drink, the sunlight catching in his hair and making him look deceptively angelic. “You can bring him with you next time.”

Eddie groaned, forehead smushed against his arms on the café’s table. “Buck is not Catholic.”

Father Brian shrugged, casual. “Doesn’t matter. Everyone’s welcome.”

Eddie didn’t lift his head. “What should I say? ‘Hey, Buck, I’ve been yearning for your touch, want to come to church with me so Father Brian can tell me if you might feel the same?’”

Father Brian snorted into his cup. “Maybe...not with those exact words.”

Eddie finally looked up, shooting the priest a look somewhere between exasperation and desperation. “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“This. Me. Liking him. It’s a sin, right? I mean…”

Father Brian gave a thoughtful hum, taking another slow sip like he was choosing his words. “Religious people sin every day, Eddie. We lie. We judge. We eat too much cake when we’re supposed to fast.” He glanced pointedly at the half-eaten pastry on his plate. “It’s not really my job to weigh one sin heavier than another.”

That sounded suspiciously like I don’t give a fuck as you friend, but I can’t quiet say so as your priest.

Eddie exhaled hard, letting his head fall back down on his folded arms. He felt sixteen again—pining, twisted up inside, and terrified of his own heart. God, the things Buck did to him. Just existing.

“Isn’t that—”

Father Brian’s voice cut off and Eddie’s head whipped up. The priest hadn’t even finished his sentence. But Eddie already knew. Because Eddie was already used to the universe mocking him. He felt it like a chill down his spine.

The universe, in all its cruel timing, delivered Buck. Right at this moment, during his existential crisis.

And Buck was… Sweet Jesus.

Like a scene from a damn movie. Tank top clinging to sweat-slicked skin, hair tousled, a grin lighting up his entire face as he spotted them. He had earbuds in, phone strapped to his bicep, and he was glowing like a fucking Roman god.

Father Brian cleared his throat. Loudly. Eddie didn’t move, however, he was unable to rip his gaze away from Buck. Their eyes crossed, and a smile beamed on his face as he jogged towards them.

“Eddie,” Father Brian hissed.

Eddie blinked, shaking the trance his body seemed to be on. God. What a sight.

Oh, this was so bad. And embarrassing.

Buck waved, slowing his jog. “Hey!” he called, popping one earbud out and flashing that killer smile.

Eddie’s brain had short-circuited.

Buck turned to Father Brian, slightly sheepish. “Hi, I’m Buck. I work with Eddie. I’d offer a handshake but—” He held up his arms, drenched in sweat. “Sticky.”

Father Brian chuckled. “I’m Father Brian.”

“Oh! Father Brian, wow. Yeah, I’ve heard your name a few times—Cap and Eddie talk about you.”

Eddie could feel Father Brian’s slow turn in his direction. Buck might as well have said my soulmate never shuts up about you.

Trying to recover, Eddie cleared his throat. “What’re you doing out so early?”

Buck smiled again. Of course he did. That damn smile Could he fucking stop being brighter than the sun?

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d clear my head. I’m meeting Maddie and Chim later for breakfast. You should come! Hang out with us and Jee.”

“Oh, I,” Eddie shook his head. Which apparently wasn’t allowed, because Father Brian kicked him under the table. “I couldn’t impose,” he finished, glaring at Father Brian. “I’m gonna meet Hen and Karen later. Denny and Chris wanted to game some.”

Buck’s smile faltered a little. “Ah, bummer. Well, if you change your mind, text me, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.”

Buck looked at Father Brian again, polite and bright. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Buck,” the priest replied easily. “Maybe next time you could join Eddie—at church.”

Eddie froze. His heart leapt into his throat like it wanted to escape.

Buck blinked. “Oh. Uh…yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Eddie felt the ground shift under him.

“Great,” Father Brian said, not missing a beat.

Buck jogged off, earbuds back in, giving them one last wave. Eddie watched the sweat glisten on his arms as he disappeared down the block.

Father Brian whistled low. “You really are in love.”

Eddie glared at him, the kind of glare Buck called his ‘stank face’.

“At least now you have an opening to invite him to church,” the priest added, far too smug for a man of God.

Eddie groaned and slammed his head back into his arms. Why was the universe against him?

*

Buck: yo lmk if u wanna hang

The air smelled like sunscreen and charcoal. Mara shrieked with laughter as she chased a soap bubble the size of her head, darting past Eddie where he sat stiffly on a patio chair. The umbrella above offered shade, but it didn’t help his rising body temperature.

Hen handed him a glass of lemonade and took the chair across from him, throwing one leg over the other like she was settling in for a show.

Eddie hadn’t even opened his mouth and already regretted agreeing to come over.

“I’m just saying,” Hen started casually, “you’ve looked like someone dumped a bucket of ice down your shirt since you walked in.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mhm.”

He sipped the cold, tart lemonade. Better than sweating through another hour at home.

“It’s just been… a day.”

Hen tilted her head. “Did Buck jog shirtless again? Because you know, I’ve been saying someone needs to ticket that man for public safety violations.”

Eddie nearly choked. Of all the things that could have happened today that was what she was going for? Seriously?

“No. Shirt was on.”

“Tank top?”

He glared. Had Buck posted something on social media again?

Hen grinned. “So, a crime was still committed.”

“I was getting something to drink with Father Brian,” he explained lamely.

Hen clicked her tongue. “You poor thing. You were just trying to have a quiet existential crisis in public and boom—hottest man alive jogs up, smiling like it’s his job.”

“It is his job,” Eddie muttered.

Hen laughed. “Touché.”

He dropped his head back with a sigh. The sky was too blue. Everything was too bright. Buck’s sweat-slicked face had been seared into his brain, and the fact that he had agreed—so casually—to come to church? It was doing things to Eddie’s nerves he didn’t have names for.

“He said yes,” Eddie said again, quieter.

Hen blinked slowly. “To…?”

“Coming to church. With me. Father Brian asked.”

“And you didn’t spontaneously combust? Proud of you.”

“I almost did.”

“Ah. There it is.”

The screen door creaked open behind them and Karen stepped out, hands full with a tray of fruit and chips.

“Hen’s still teasing you about your husband?”

Eddie froze. “He’s not—” He choked. “He’s not my—what?”

Karen blinked innocently, setting the tray down. “Your friendship. Sorry. Your friendship is just so beautiful. Honestly, at one point I really thought you were a couple.”

Hen bit down on a grape to muffle her laughter.

Eddie looked like he’d swallowed a grenade. “Why would you think that?”

Karen shrugged. “I don’t know! You’re comfortable. He stares at you like you put the stars in the sky. You do that grumpy-soft thing when he walks into a room. It was a vibe.”

“I don’t do a grumpy-soft thing,” Eddie snapped.

Hen raised a brow. “You absolutely do.”

“I do not. I don’t even know what that means.”

Karen popped a grape into her mouth and said, “Anyway, I know now that it’s just deep platonic devotion. With longing. And maybe repressed desire.”

Hen coughed so hard she had to put her drink down.

Eddie stood up. Sat back down. His brain short-circuited. “This is insane. You’re both insane.”

“We’re married,” Karen said sweetly. “We recognize these things.”

Mara squealed again in the background. From inside, there was a loud “YES!” — either Denny or Christopher had just won whatever game they were playing.

Hen nudged his foot with hers. “Look, we’re not saying anything you don’t already know.”

“I don’t know anything,” Eddie grumbled.

Karen grinned. “That’s okay. Sometimes denial is just the scenic route to acceptance.”

Hen laughed and added, “You’re practically on a gay pilgrimage.”

“I hate both of you.”

“Only because we’re right.”

He didn’t answer. Mostly because his brain was busy looping every frame of Buck running up to him like a golden retriever dipped in honey and sunbeams. Which was… weird. He knew that, okay?

Hen watched him for a moment longer, her voice going softer. “Just… let yourself feel whatever it is, Eddie. Nobody’s judging you. Least of all us.”

Eddie didn’t lift his head, but he didn’t pull away from the words either.

Karen tossed a grape at him, hitting him in the chest. “And if you do bring him to church, at least wear something that says ‘God’s favorite mess’ so the congregation knows what we’re dealing with.”

Eddie groaned, grabbing his phone, it was buzzing again. Which could only mean one thing.

Buck: u home yet

Buck: jee is down and these ppl are weird

Buck: edsssss

Buck: eddieeeeeee

Buck: dont ignore me prick

Eddie rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was impossible to suppress.

Eddie: Those people are your sister and brother-in-law

Buck: hence the weirdness

Buck: where are u?

Eddie: Still at Hen and Karen’s

Buck: omw

Eddie stared at his screen for a moment. Then he looked up, but Hen and Karen were already looking at him. Eddie suddenly felt that he was smiling the brightest of smiles and immediately dropped it.

“Who were you talking to, Eddie?” Hen asked, not even trying to hide her smile. Both she and Karen were already staring at him like cats that’d caught the scent of something deeply entertaining.

“Buck’s apparently coming over,” he replied.

Karen lifted an eyebrow. “Here?”

“Yep.”

Karen smiled. “He missed you, huh?”

Hen made a faux-sweet voice. “Guess he couldn’t bear to be without his emotional support firefighter.”

Eddie gave them both a look. “God,” he muttered. “You two are relentless.”

“We are,” Karen agreed cheerfully, then added, “It’s a coping mechanism. Helps when your new neighbor won’t stop texting your wife weird memes.”

Hen laughed. “Okay, he sent me one weird raccoon video. And I didn’t even open it.”

“You showed me!” Karen said. “The raccoon was in a suit!”

“I thought it was a monkey in a suit.”

“See, and that’s why I opened it. I was curious.”

Eddie could do nothing but smile affectionally at them. Hen and Karen were the best. They were such a wonderful power couple, two geniuses and they were raising two kids.

The doorbell rang a moment later.

Eddie practically levitated.

“I’ll get it,” he muttered, already halfway there.

“Oh, okay, Speedy Gonzales,” Karen called.

Eddie opened the door and there stood Buck on the porch. Black t-shirt, dark jeans, boots. Easy smile. Blinding, blue eyes. Shining birthmark above his eye.

“Hey,” Buck said, casual as anything.

Eddie blinked. “Hey.”

Buck lifted a book in his hand and then lifted the other hand with a plate of cookies. They seemed to be homemade.

Eddie stepped aside at last—why had he been hovering?—and let Buck inside. “We’re in the garden. Kids are in the living room.” He grabbed the plate from Buck and put a cookie in his mouth.

Buck slapped his hand. “Bring it to the women of the house first, you animal.”

Eddie grinned at him, crumbs of cookie on his lips. Buck’s eyes latched onto them, and for a moment Eddie held his breath. But Buck didn’t mean anything with it, because he shook his head, grinning, and walked off to greet the kids. Eddie made his way back to Hen and Karen.

“Ah, he brought cookies,” Karen commented. “I love Buck’s cookies.”

Hen grabbed another chair for Buck, placing it next to Eddie’s.

“Hello, hello,” Buck greeted, waving as he walked out of the house.

Karen waved back. “There he is. The man, the myth, the—probably about to be roasted mercilessly by Hen.”

“Only if he deserves it,” Hen said, standing to take the book. “And spoiler alert: he usually does.” She looked the book over. “Ah, Chim finally found it?”

Buck grinned, about to respond, when his phone buzzed. He glanced down—and his whole expression shifted.

“Shit. Sorry,” he muttered, already backing toward the door. “I gotta go. Something came up.”

Eddie stood. “Wait—what? Everything okay?”

Buck paused at the doorway, face unreadable. “It’s… complicated. Not an emergency, just—someone had a bad experience.”

“Can we do something?” Hen asked, he teasing voice nowhere to be found. Even Karen stood up, worry etched on her face.

“No, uh, I’ll uh, I’ll handle it,” Buck replied. “Sorry. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Eddie followed Buck to the door. “A bad experience where?”

Buck hesitated. Then gave Eddie a look that was somehow both apologetic and intensely avoidant. “It’s club stuff. I’ll explain later.”

Eddie blinked. “Club?”

“Yeah. I gotta go.” Buck was already opening the front door. Then he was gone, disappearing down the walk like a ghost who’d dropped a riddle and vanished.

Eddie closed the door slowly, gently. Too gently. Like if he moved carefully enough, his heart wouldn’t punch through his ribcage.

Club stuff?

What the hell did that mean?

He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the floor like it might start explaining things. His brain immediately lit a flare:

CRIMSON.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Walked back to the garden like someone walking away from a crime scene.

Karen was refilling her drink. Hen was scrolling on her phone. Both of them looked up at him in tandem.

“Well?” Hen asked.

“He said someone had a bad experience,” Eddie muttered, sitting back down.

Karen raised an eyebrow. “What kind of experience?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie snapped. “He said it was ‘club stuff.’”

There was a pause. Hen’s face did a thing. Karen’s face mimicked her.

And Eddie shouldn’t care. He really shouldn’t. He had no right to care. But…

But he didn’t like the club, so Buck and him didn’t talk about it anymore. Every time he had, Eddie stiffened so hard he nearly cracked a vertebra. And Buck just never mentioned it again.

And now?

Now he had left them—left him—to go comfort some… stranger? Some emotionally fragile, strap-happy stranger who maybe wanted to be held. Or choked. Or both. Or who couldn’t handle their emotions and wanted for their guts to be rearranged?

And Buck had left them for some stranger?

Eddie’s knee started bouncing. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.

Hen tilted her head, clocking it instantly. “Everything okay there, champ?”

Karen sipped from her wine and gestured vaguely. “He's spiraling. You can tell by the knee.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Karen put her glass down and leaned in with faux sincerity. “He said ‘club stuff’ and your soul left your body. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie exploded. Then dropped his voice because the kids were still in the living room, giggling over whatever cartoon they had on. “I’m not—” he hissed, then stopped himself.

“This is a perfect example of what people do when they hear something they don’t like from the person they’re emotionally married to,” Karen commented.

“Stop.”

“No, no,” Hen said, eyes gleaming. “Let’s unpack this.”

“There’s nothing to unpack!” Eddie stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “I’m getting more juice for the kids,” he said stiffly.

“Get some wine for yourself too, babe,” Karen called after him. “You need it.”

He didn’t respond. He was already halfway to the kitchen, muttering under his breath about how Buck was an idiot, and Hen was evil, and Karen was worse.

And he was fine.

Completely. Totally. Fine.

*

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as fine as he’d thought.

The kids had begged for a sleepover all pleading faces and matching puppy eyes. Eddie had caved with a sigh and a wave of his hand. Hen and Karen had been game, already planning snacks and movie lineups.

It also left him alone.

He got home to silence. An empty house. No Chris. No Buck. No TV humming in the background. Just quiet.

And in the quiet, his thoughts got loud. Unruly. Sharp-edged.

He tried to sit still. Tried to sleep. Tried to ignore the text Buck had sent hours ago: We’ll talk later.

About what?

About the club?

About the someone?

His mind spun like a carousel of worst-case scenarios—Buck's hands on someone else, Buck’s mouth on someone else, Buck offering that safe, soft smile he kept just for Eddie to someone who hadn’t earned it.

Which is how he found himself banging on Buck’s door at 2.30 AM like lunatic.

The door creaked open. Buck stood there, half-asleep and blinking, tousle-haired and shirtless, wearing only his boxers. Confused. Beautiful.

Eddie did what any insane person would do.

He didn’t think.

Didn’t ask.

Didn’t explain.

He grabbed Buck by the shoulders, shoved him gently back inside, and kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

Chapter Text

Buck had been fuming when he got home. Not the simmering, quiet kind of anger—no, this was volcanic. The kind that pulsed behind his eyes and made his skin feel too tight. The only reason he hadn’t torn the city apart with his bare hands was because he’d stayed focused. For her. Selina.

She was one of the subs at Crimson. Sweet, soft-spoken, always careful with her words. Buck had talked with her a handful of times, enough that she smiled easily when she saw him, enough that she once joked he made her feel safer just by being in the same room. That stuck with him.

He’d been part of the Crimson emergency dom pool for over a year now. Every day he wasn’t at the firehouse, he was technically on call. Usually, the texts were harmless. Requests for check-ins (Code Green), emotional regulation (Code Yellow), someone needing a grounding voice during a panic spiral (Code Orange).

But not tonight.

The text had pinged right as he had wanted to get comfortable at Hen and Karen’s house.

SOS: Code Black.

His blood had run cold.

Code Black was the worst Crimson ever sent. It wasn’t a safe word. It was an alarm bell. A sub had been hurt—abused—and Crimson needed someone now.

Selina’s case was the worst Buck had seen. Her arm was snapped at an unnatural angle. Her face—God, her face. Purple bruises bloomed across her cheekbones and jaw, her lip split clean through. She hadn’t spoken when he arrived, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even blinked. Buck had seen that kind of stillness before at accident sites, when victims were too deep in shock to register pain.

He’d done a quick assessment, keeping his voice low, grounding. Only when his fingers brushed hers, gentle and careful,did her body finally seem to register him. And then the dam broke.

Sobs. Gut-wrenching, soul-splintering cries as she curled into him like she was trying to disappear. Buck had held her for over an hour, whispering reassurances she probably couldn’t even hear. He gave her the aftercare she should’ve gotten—the kind every dom worth the name would’ve insisted on.

And then he saw him. The dom responsible.

Drunk. Arrogant. Still trying to justify what he'd done. How had he even gotten past security like that? Buck barely remembered lunging, but it had taken two of his fellow doms to hold him back before he cracked the bastard’s jaw open.

He should’ve. He still might.

That fucker would pay. One way or another.

By the time Buck stumbled into his apartment, it was after midnight. He was running on fumes. Clothes hit the floor in a trail from the door to the bed, and he collapsed face-first into the mattress, too wired to sleep but too drained to move.

Which was why, when the pounding on his door came a few hours later—two, maybe three—he jolted upright, heart jackhammering. His brain immediately went to retaliation. A consequence. The dom’s friends? Someone from Crimson? Had something happened to Selina again?

He ran down the stairs and yanked open the door— And froze as he saw a pair of familiar, brown eyes.

Eddie.

Standing there in a hoodie and jeans, hair mussed like he’d either been sleeping or dragging his fingers through it nonstop. His eyes were wide, searching Buck’s face like he was afraid he’d find something broken. His eyes dragged over Buck body, as if looking for injuries  

Buck barely had time to register him, much less ask where Christopher was or why the hell Eddie was here at 3 a.m., before Eddie stepped inside, grabbed Buck’s neck, and kissed him. It was fierce and desperate and full of something Buck couldn’t name, but felt right down to his marrow.

Buck thought he deserved some recognition for pulling back after a few heartbeats. He gasped slightly, trying to make sense of what was happening. Then he made the fatal mistake of looking at Eddie’s face.

His bruised lips. His brown eyes that looked straight into Buck’s soul. The soft strand of hair that fell over his forehead. It was the way he looked at him, however, that was the worst of it all. Buck could only describe it as raw.

And he felt himself snap. He kicked the door shut, shoved Eddie back against it, and kissed him again—deeper, rougher this time. Buck didn’t know who moved first this time, if Eddie tugged him closer or if Buck pressed harder, but suddenly their bodies were flush, heat rising between them like wildfire. Eddie’s hands slid into his hair, fingers clenching like he needed something to hold onto, and Buck let him. Hell, Buck needed it too.

There was nothing careful about it. This wasn’t slow, or soft, or questioning. It was a crash. A collision.

Buck’s hands gripped Eddie’s hips, dragging him even closer, chest to chest, heart to heart. They were breathing each other’s exhales like it was oxygen.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered against Buck’s mouth.

And somehow, that was what broke the spell for Buck. He let go off Eddie and stepped back, creating enough space between them for Buck to use his brain instead of his dick. Or his heart.

Eddie didn’t though, he stepped closer to Buck again, clearly not in his right mind—because why would he want to kiss Buck?

“Eddie, stop.”

Eddie didn’t listen, his eyes searching Buck’s. “You’re shaking.”

Buck hadn’t even noticed. But now that Eddie said it, yeah, his fingers were trembling. From adrenaline. From fury. From grief and guilt and too many things piled up inside him with no place to go.

Eddie reached up, cupping the side of Buck’s face, thumb brushing beneath his eye like he expected to find tears. “What happened tonight?”

Buck let out a breath, chest heaving. “A Code Black.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked softly, his eyes turned sad however, like he knew it was bad.

Buck swallowed.

“Her arm was broken, man. Her face… She didn’t even flinch when I touched her. Not at first.” Buck could see Selina sitting, staring at nothing, again as he recalled what had happened.   

Eddie’s whole body tensed. “Jesus, Buck.”

“I gave her the aftercare,” Buck said, voice cracking despite his effort to keep it level. “Held her through the breakdown. Stayed with her until she calmed down enough to go to the hospital. The dom who did it—he was drunk, Eddie. I almost—” Buck laughed, humorless and bitter. “I nearly beat him unconscious in front of the staff.”

“I wish you had,” Eddie muttered, jaw clenched.

“I wanted to,” Buck said, quieter now. “But I couldn’t. Because I was needed elsewhere.”

Eddie rested his forehead against Buck’s, both of them breathing heavy. “You are amazing.”

Buck exhaled.

They stood there in the silence for a beat too long, just holding each other up. Then Eddie spoke, voice low and firm: “Come here.” He took Buck’s hand and walked them to the bed. No rush. No pressure. Just gravity, and the silent understanding between them that whatever this was—it was an exception. A fluke in the system.

Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and tugged Buck between his knees, resting his head against Buck’s stomach, arms around his waist. Buck stood there, hands threading through Eddie’s hair, grounding himself in the closeness. In him.

Minutes passed, maybe more. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Eventually, Eddie looked up. “Lie down with me.”

Buck nodded, swallowing hard.

They laid down tangled together, Eddie’s hand pressed flat over Buck’s heart like he could shield it. And maybe he could.

Buck didn’t fall asleep for a while. But when he did, it was the first time that night he felt at ease.

*

Okay, so maybe Buck had fled his own apartment.

Which was ridiculous. Cowardly. Honestly pathetic. He knew it. But that didn’t stop him from slipping out of bed before the sun had even fully risen heart hammering like he’d just outrun a call gone wrong.

All because Eddie had kissed him. Eddie. And when he woke up Eddie had been asleep in his bed, curled into Buck’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mumbling softly in his sleep. And the sight was too adorable. It tugged at the strings of his heart, as if to mock him that this wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.

Buck was slowly unravelling again, turning into a fucking mess.  Because it had felt like they’d finally found their rhythm again—like they'd shaken off the awkwardness and hesitations since that night. Eddie had been laughing again. Teasing. Showing up for coffee without a reason and staying too long without an excuse.

And now he had kissed Buck. And Buck had kissed him back. Which was reason for Buck to not be able to breath. He couldn’t go through all of that again. Not another chapter of "maybe" and "what if" and just kidding, Buck, it didn’t mean anything.

So yeah. He fled, hoping that Eddie would be gone when he came back and they could just forget the kiss. It was a low moment, even for him. He’d never run from his own damn apartment before. Other people’s? Sure. But not his.

He ended up at the café around the block—the same one where he’d seen Eddie with Father Brian yesterday, like fate just couldn’t stop looping them together. Buck grabbed a large coffee and didn’t even drink it. Just sat there with it, staring into space like it might explain Eddie’s mouth on his last night.

Then he ran. Hard. No destination, just pounding the pavement like it could shake loose the chaos in his head. He played with dogs at the park, laughing when one started to lick his face. Bought a kid a replacement ice cream cone after hers hit the pavement—who even gave a kid ice cream this early?—and praised her for not bawling like it was the end of the world. Chatted with some of the older neighbors who remembered him from his first month in the building and still called him “the cute firefighter with too much energy.”

And by the time it was past eleven, he deemed it safe enough to go back home and take a long shower. He could pretend it hadn’t happened. Chalk it up to a bad night, adrenaline, confusion—anything but what it might actually mean.

But when Buck opened the door, all his hope evaporated. Eddie was sitting at the kitchen table like he belonged, mug of coffee in one hand, book in the other. He looked annoyingly calm, not at all what Buck had expected. The whole image was very… domestic.

He looked up with a quiet “Hey.”

Buck blinked, thrown. “Hey. Thought you might’ve gone home by now.” The words came out before he could think about them. Very tactless. He winced even as they left his mouth.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “Thought maybe we could talk. Didn’t want to leave you alone after last night. You seemed pretty shaken up.”

Buck shrugged, walking to the fridge to get some water, so he’d have something to do with his hands. “Yeah. Fine now, though. Thanks.”

Eddie nodded slowly, eyes tracking Buck’s every movement. His face did that thing again, where he was trying to figure something out. “Made fresh coffee,” he offered. “In case you want some.”

Buck drained the water bottle in one go, crushed it and tossed it in the bin like it had done something wrong. “I’m good,” he replied, muttering. “Gonna take a shower.”

And with that, he turned and walked straight to the bathroom, pulse hammering in his throat. He didn’t slam the door behind him, but he wanted to. Not out of anger, out of sheer panic.

The second it clicked shut, Buck braced his hands on the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection. He looked… haunted. Like someone had cracked him open and he hadn’t figured out how to close the wound yet.

“Get it together,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He turned the water on, let the steam build until the mirror fogged and the sound gave him something else to focus on. Then he stripped, stepped under the hot spray, and let it scald the what-ifs from his skin.

Only, it didn’t work.

Because now he was just standing naked in the shower, replaying that kiss in his mind like a song he couldn’t turn off. The heat of Eddie’s mouth. The quiet desperation of it. The way Buck had kissed him back without thinking, without hesitation. Like his body had been waiting for that exact moment all along.

And then? He ran.

“Coward,” he whispered to himself, scrubbing at his hair like he could get the memory out that way. But it clung to him, in every pore. The way Eddie had looked at him in the moonlight. The way he hadn’t pulled back, even when Buck had flinched after. The way he’d stayed. And now he was still here. Sitting in Buck’s kitchen. Drinking coffee like this was something they did.

Well… it was actually something they had done for years.

Buck let the water wash over him one last time before he shut it off, grabbed a towel, and stood there dripping, his heart still racing like during his run.

When he emerged, dressed in sweats and an old tee, Eddie hadn’t moved. Still reading, though his eyes flicked up as Buck crossed the room and hovered uncertainly near the doorway. In his own damn home.

Eddie closed the book with a quiet thump, set it aside.

“I’m not sorry,” he said.

Buck’s heart stopped. “What?”

“I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

The silence between them stretched like a wire about to snap. Buck shifted his weight, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he could physically hold himself together.

“You should be,” he said, but it came out quiet. Tired. “Because I—I can’t do this again, Eds. The back and forth. The almosts. It messes with my head.”

“I know,” Eddie replied. “That’s why I stayed. I didn’t want to run this time.”

Buck flinched at that, because yeah, he was the one who ran this time.

“I don’t know what this is,” Buck said, voice cracking on the edges. “And I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want…” Eddie hesitated, then stood slowly, like he wasn’t sure how close he could get. He seemed to be looking for something in Buck’s face, before he opened his mouth again. “I want to scene with you again. Make the contract long term.”

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, all he could do was stare.

“Say something,” Eddie said, quiet now, unsure for the first time.

“I’m not sure, Eddie,” Buck finally said. Because he really wasn’t. He wanted to scene with Eddie, God knew how badly he wanted to do anything with Eddie. But Eddie was… fragile. Buck had been his first sexual interaction with a guy and he hadn’t been able to look at him for weeks. Now that he finally had his best friend back, he couldn’t lose him again.

Eddie’s face was crestfallen.

“Look, I—” Buck started, raking a hand through his damp hair. He sighed. “I’m just scared this is going to mess up our friendship. Especially after… Well, after how you handled last time.”

Eddie nodded slowly, not looking away from Buck’s eyes. “I know,” he said finally. “And I promise this time will be different.”

Buck looked at him, really looked at him—at the steady weight of Eddie’s gaze, at the quiet confidence holding back a flood of nerves behind his eyes. And then he kept staring some more, like maybe if he looked long enough, he’d figure out whether this was safe.

“You don’t get to ask for that like it’s nothing,” he said, voice low now. Not angry, just… honest. “You ghosted me, Eddie. After I gave you everything you asked for. After you let me in and then slammed the door shut in my face.”

Eddie looked down. “I know. I messed up.”

“You didn’t just mess up.” Buck’s arms uncrossed, hands curling into fists at his sides. “You left me hanging in the middle of something I didn’t even know we had. And now you’re here talking about a long-term contract like it’s a casual follow-up.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said again, quieter. “It wasn’t casual to me. I just… couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face you.”

Buck exhaled sharply. “That’s not how this works, Eds. You don’t get to ask for submission and then walk away when it gets too real. That scene—I took care of you. I gave you space to fall apart. And you never gave me the courtesy of even a real conversation after. The rules, the aftercare it’s for you, as it is as much for me. For any dom.”

Eddie’s throat bobbed. He didn’t argue. “I know.”

“So why now?” Buck asked, voice measured. “Why show up today, sit at my table, ask for me again? What changed?”

Eddie took a breath, then another. “I… missed it. Missed how I felt. Safe. Head empty. I knew you’d take care of me. And I realized the reason I ran was because it did mean something. I was scared of what that said about me. About how much I wanted it.” He swallowed, looking away for a heartbeat. But when he opened his mouth again, he looked straight into Buck’s eyes, clearly trying to win him over. “But I’m not here to pretend I know what happens next. Or to ask you for more than you’re willing to give.”

Buck stepped closer, gaze sharp. “You don’t get to steer this, Eddie.”

Eddie nodded, eyes dropping. “I’m not trying to.”

“This is on my terms. You want back in, you earn it. You don’t decide when or how this goes. I do.”

“I understand.” Eddie’s voice was soft, but steady. There was a flicker of something vulnerable in his posture—his shoulders slightly dropped, chin lowered, waiting.

Buck studied him, breath still heavy with too many emotions he hadn’t sorted yet.

“Good,” he said finally. “Then if we do this, it starts slow. You show up. You stay. You listen. And you rebuild what you broke. I’m not going to hand you control of anything until I know I can trust you again.”

Eddie’s lips parted, breath catching. Then he nodded once, reverently.

“I need verbal confirmation, Eddie.”

Eddie’s lips parted at those words. He licked his lips, before saying, “Yes, Buck. Anything.”

And just like that, some of the tension in Buck’s spine eased.

*

Buck had chosen cruelty. Not out of malice, but as a test. Measured. Intentional. Calculated to scrape at the edges of Eddie’s pride and see just how far he’d go. How much he meant it when he said he wanted a second chance.

Because the truth was, Buck hadn’t only doubted their friendship after what happened the first time—he’d doubted himself. And that kind of doubt? It came from a place so bleak, so hollow, so dark Buck had clawed his way out of it once and swore he’d never return.

So, if Eddie really wanted back in, really wanted him, he had to earn it. Not with words. Not with sweet eyes or soft touches. But through silence. Obedience. Endurance. Push through every ridiculous command Buck threw at him.

So far? Eddie hadn’t failed.

He’d followed every humiliating instruction to the letter. Arrived before every shift. Dropped to his knees just inside the door. Stayed there—still, quiet, waiting—for twenty whole minutes, no matter how long Buck made him. Each time, before they left, he’d whisper the mantra Buck had given him, voice unwavering: “I will not run. I will serve with presence. I will not ask before I earn.”

Eddie was not allowed to speak to Buck without his permission. He was not allowed to touch Buck. He wasn’t even allowed to look at Buck.

On the first day, Buck had handed him a brown leather journal. No explanations. Just a look. Eddie had opened it and understood—he was expected to write every day. About his failure. His wants. His cravings. His shame. His thoughts. His desires.

Buck knew Eddie wanted him to read it, expect him to read it. And Buck hadn’t read a single word.

It was part of the silence. Cold, unrelenting silence. No sweet names. No grounding touches. No brush of fingers through his hair. Buck barely looked at him. Didn’t speak unless it was a command.

And the final cruelty, the one Buck knew wouldn’t even hurt the most: no orgasms.

But Eddie didn’t lash out. Didn’t beg. Didn’t even try to sneak a touch during their shifts. He wore the distance like penance, quiet and dutiful. It stunned Buck, honestly. Because Eddie was the guy who thrived on closeness. On connection. On touch. And here he was—taking his punishment with nothing but grace and grit.

They both knew this was something private. Just between the two of them. No one knew about that first time, and no one would know about Eddie’s punishment and what was waiting for him if he had earned Buck’s trust back.

Eddie was a probie. Again. And Buck was going to make damn sure he earned every inch of trust back.

The apartment was quiet when Eddie arrived, just like it had been all week. Same ritual. Same time.

Buck was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the news on his tablet. He didn’t acknowledge Eddie, who stepped inside, locked the door and dropped to his knees just inside the threshold. Palms flat on his thighs. Eyes down. Not a sound out of him.

He wasn’t allowed to. And he knew it.

Buck ignored the tightness in his chest and kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to read. He’d seen dozens of men and women kneel before. Dozens who had submitted with eager eyes and open mouths. But this?

This was Eddie.

And Eddie was different. Special.

Buck knew Eddie inside out. He knew the storm behind the quiet. Knew how much this silence cost him. Knew that under all that stillness was a man desperate to be acknowledged, to be touched.

One of Eddie’s love languages was physical touch. Buck had learned that the night he discovered just how much this stoic, ex-military man could melt at a graze of fingers or hand in his hair. How he always seemed to grab Buck’s shoulder in serious moments where he had to make sure Buck understood him, even if he didn't understand himself.

So, Buck refrained from touching him.

After a few minutes of staring at the screen but not reading anything, he opened his mouth. “You’re late,” he said, voice calm. Like a man commenting on the weather. “Three minutes.”

He still didn’t look at Eddie. But he’d noticed. Of course, he had. Every tick of those three minutes had scraped against his nerves, whispering maybe he’s not coming. Maybe he had pushed too hard already.

“I—”

“Ah, ah.” Buck’s voice snapped like a whip, his eyes finally lifting to pin Eddie in place. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to speak.”

Eddie went still, the obedience in him immediate and involuntary. He quickly looked down again. Fuck, that was hot.

Buck pushed up from the table, the scrape of the chair loud in the quiet. He circled Eddie once, slow and deliberate, then stopped behind him and leaned down until his mouth hovered near Eddie’s ear.

“You think three minutes don’t matter?” he asked, his voice low and close. “That I wouldn’t notice?”

A visible shiver ran down Eddie’s spine and Buck could see him swallow. “No, sir,” he answered softly.

“You don’t get to be casual here,” Buck said, straightening. “Not after what you did.”

“Yes, sir.”

Silence stretched. Buck watched him. Measured the tension in his shoulders. The way he resisted the urge to shift.

“Say it,” Buck ordered.

Eddie took a shaky breath, but his voice was firm. “I will not run. I will serve with presence. I will not ask before I earn.”

God, it burned on Buck’s tongue to reward him for it. To praise him. But he held back. He had to. Not yet.

Instead, he stepped around to face him. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up, and Buck saw it—that flicker of surprise. There was no anger on Buck’s face.

He crouched, bringing himself just above Eddie’s eye-level. He was keeping the power, the control. Eddie still had to look up at him.

“I’m rebuilding something here,” he said. “And you don’t get to waltz in and act like nothing broke. You begged to kneel, and then vanished like it meant nothing.”

Eddie’s mouth parted to speak, but Buck didn’t let him.

“I’m speaking. You don’t get to.”

Eddie’s mouth clicked shut.

“I know you panicked,” Buck continued, voice calm. “But panic doesn’t erase consequences. You want back in? You follow my pace. No scenes. No touching. No pleasure. Just obedience.” Buck had repeated the same thing several times this week. And yet, it was a good reminder. For the both of them.

Eddie’s nod was instant. Firm. His cheeks flushed pink, but his eyes didn’t waver.

“You might think you understand,” Buck murmured. “But you don’t. You don’t get to ask me for what you want. You show up. You serve. That’s it.”

He studied him for a long beat. Eddie looked right back, somehow relieved. Buck didn’t understand why.

“Palms up.”

Eddie obeyed instantly, lifting his hands in offering. Buck put a dog tag in his hands. On one side it said Earn Me. – B On the other side it said Only good boys stay. Because Buck remembered how good it had felt for Eddie to be called a good boy.

Eddie’s breath caught in his chest as he turned the dog tag over. He swallowed. He looked up from the metal in his hands, his eyes large, almost puppy-like and it took everything in Buck to not do something stupid.

God, he wanted to drag him in by the collar and ruin him.

Instead, he said coldly, “This isn’t love. This isn’t a gift. This is a reminder—you’re on probation. If you earn your way back, maybe you get to be my submissive again. But it’s all in my control. I decide to take you back or not.”

Eddie didn’t speak. Just stared up at him like Buck hung the stars.

“If you fuck this up,” Buck added, voice hard, “I’ll burn it.”

Eddie said nothing. Just slid the tags around his neck and tucked them beneath his henley, his hand brushing over the metal like it was sacred.

Buck rose to his full height, backing away. “Good. Fifteen more minutes. Then we leave for shift.”

Eddie lowered his head again, his hand pressing to the shape of the tag under his shirt like it tethered him to something real.

Buck clenched his jaw, turned, and headed upstairs, leaving behind a quiet, obedient man who hadn’t touched him in a week, but who was wrecking him just the same.

Chapter Text

Eddie barely felt the scalding water pounding against his skin. His head tipped back against the tile, eyes shut, jaw locked, fingers holding on to the dog tag Buck had given him. He stood there, trying to let the adrenaline bleed out of his bones. The heat was suffocating. Steam rolled in waves across the tiled floor, clinging to his skin like a second, too-warm layer. Water thundered against his shoulders, but it wasn’t helping. Not with the tension in his jaw. Or in his shoulder. Or the cardiac arrhythmia he was developing.

His whole body ached from the brutal shift. They had made long hours, a multi-alarm call that left them half-deaf from sirens and half-dead from all the smoke. There were smudges of soot still clinging to his skin and underneath his nails that didn’t go away, no matter how many times he scrubbed.

Buck and he had been on cleaning duty today. Which meant while the others had gone to shower immediately, Buck and he were left to clean the equipment and mop the engine bay.  Buck had followed his beloved clipboard, joking around, like he hadn’t spent the last week and a half slowly dismantling Eddie with glances, low-voiced commands, and strict rules that left no room for defiance.

The probation period was already brutal, and Eddie wondered what else Buck would throw at him. Because if he knew Buck, and he did, he knew Buck would slowly build up to see what Eddie could take. Buck didn’t know however that Eddie would do anything. That was apparently how far gone he was.

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of having thought that the dry spell with Marisol had been because of his medicine. He was still swallowing Zoloft, but he was horny all the time now. The dull ache pulsing low in his abdomen, sharp, persistent, and familiar. And it wasn’t vague. It wasn’t generic. It was Buck. Buck was the hunger curled in his gut, the friction under his skin, the heat that never burned out.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop feeling a certain kind of way, even with his harshness and the cold shoulder he gave Eddie. Because Eddie had kissed him and was trying to win Buck back. And Buck had given him a chance. Which was… lovely, but also unexpected.

Eddie bit his lip. He knew he was not allowed to orgasm, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t touch himself, right?

It’s just… It has been more than a week since he’d last been allowed to touch himself, touch Buck, speak freely, to even look at Buck without permission. More than two weeks since he’d had any kind of relief.

Eddie swallowed, hearing Ravi’s laugh echoing from the bunkroom, Hen’s voice taking a teasing tone. And the only reason Eddie could hear that over the water running, was because someone had opened the door to the shower room. The only person who that could be was Buck.

Eddie’s heart climbed in his throat, thundering, as the water in a stall down the row switched on. Eddie tightened his grip around the dog tag, as if clinging to his sanity, trying not to imagine the view. But it was too late. Because he was thinking about Buck.

Buck, who was taking a shower a few stalls down from him. Who was stark naked. Wet. Fucking glorious. If he were there with him, he’d mourn the sight of a clean Buck, because a dirty Buck was—

Eddie clamped his hand in front of his mouth, keeping an embarrassing shriek inside, as the door to his stall opened. Buck stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The click echoed louder than the water in Eddie’s ears.

His mouth literally fell open. Buck was here. Standing inches away from him. Dripping. Gloriously naked. Water trailed in rivulets down his broad chest, over defined muscles, along the taper of his stomach. Where his hard cock rested. His expression was unreadable, completely calm. An enormous contrast to the firestorm in Eddie’s chest at the sight of him.

There was no towel. No underwear. No barrier. Just steam, water, and skin—lots of it.

Eddie’s mouth went dry. Fuck.

Fuck.

Buck was just standing there, like he owned the space. And Eddie could technically reach out and fucking feelBuck. He had never seen Buck like this. Never seen Buck completely naked. Let alone straight out of some incognito tab Eddie would open in bed when he was alone.

“Hands behind your back.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, and before he could even think about it his body reacted. He pressed his wrists to the small of his back, his finger curling in on themselves. The position pulled his chest forward, exposed him completely to Buck. He was humiliatingly and painfully hard and he couldn’t even hide it.

Buck didn’t say anything, just looked at Eddie. His eyes trailed over Eddie’s body, like he was cataloguing every little detail. His eyes locked on Eddie’s hard nipples for a moment, which made Eddie bite his lip. Because he could feel the way Buck had played with them, using the ice cube and his tongue over and over again, driving him crazy.

Then, Buck stepped even closer, opening his mouth and hovering so close to Eddie’s mouth, he was scared he’d accidentally lean forward and kiss him. His heart had taken permanent residence in his throat. Buck’s left hand braced himself against the wall next to Eddie’s head.

His mouth fell open again, breathing the same oxygen as Buck—that’s how close they were. Buck’s right hand wrapped around his own cock.

Eddie chocked on a breath, not knowing where to look. Buck’s face. Buck’s cock. Buck’s body. Nowhere? He wasn’t allowed to look, he knew that, but how could he not?!

Buck’s hand moved, deliberate and slow. Long strokes. Controlled. He didn’t groan. Didn’t sigh. Just watched Eddie, like he was conducting an experiment and Eddie was the subject.

And Eddie… Eddie was unraveling. Even more than he had been when Buck wasn’t even in the shower with him. He pressed his hands harder against the small of his back, his fingers tingling from how hard they were curled.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His mind was static and Buck. Nothing else.

His cock twitched violently between his legs, painfully hard and untouched. Of course he was hard. Buck was jerking off in front of him! Eddie felt his thighs tremble with the effort to stay still, to not do something stupid.

He tried to fight giving Buck any reaction, but he couldn’t—his chest rose and fell in short, broken gasps, mouth still parted, eyes wide. The sound of Buck’s wet, rhythmic strokes was deafening. And he was so close, just inches away.

The way he fisted his dick, still in that maddening pace, the one that made Eddie want to drop to his knees and finish it for him. He just wanted to—

“Eyes up here, Eddie,” Buck murmured. His voice sounded wrecked, which was the only indication of what this whole situation was doing to Buck.

Eddie looked up, too fast, too desperate. He’d do anything, as long as Buck wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t vanish. He had wanted to mourn not being allowed to look at Buck’s cock anymore, but Buck’s gaze was on fire. It pinned him like a nail through the chest, and Eddie swore he felt it inside him somehow. Like Buck could see every crack he was trying to hold together. His whole body just ached for a reward he hadn’t earned.

Eddie whimpered. He hadn’t meant to, but he didn’t care anymore. His cock was leaking helplessly, twitching again, and again, and again. He fought the urge to beg Buck. Just this once. He wanted to scream. To cry. To show Buck he was still a good boy.

He exhaled with a shudder. Rules were rules. He was still on probation.

“Pathetic,” Buck commented, still as wrecked sounding. “And I haven’t even touched you.”

Eddie’s legs nearly buckled, and he couldn’t handle Buck’s gaze anymore. He dropped his head, looking at the tiles, the way their feet were almost touching. Almost being the key word. What’d happen if Eddie would—

“Up.”

Eddie immediately obeyed again. It was instinct by now. Muscle memory. It was empty in his head, because he knew he was safe with Buck. His dick wasn’t. But he, as a person, as a whole, was. He was getting trained in submission he hadn’t even known he needed until Buck gave it to him. It was literally the only thing tethering him to the floor.

“I could make you come just standing there,” Buck said, almost idly. His hand had never stuttered, his bicep, his abs flexing with every stroke. “All I’d have to do is look at you the right way. Hmm. And you’d fall apart all over the fucking tiles.”

Eddie whimpered again. Tears burned behind his eyes from frustration, from need. His cock pulsed so hard it hurt. His whole body ached—not from the shift anymore, but from something entirely else.

Not touching. Not coming. Not even breathing. He was dizzy. His back was cramping. He didn’t care.

Buck’s hand moved faster now. He hummed again, clearly trying to keep his groans inside. Eddie wanted, no needed to hear him. He wanted to swallow all the sounds Buck made. His jaw was tight. He was fucking close. Buck would finally show him how he came. He’d finally—

Buck stopped. He stepped back and Eddie flinched like he had been hit.

Buck let go of himself, he was panting now, but only barely. Like he could’ve gone longer. Could’ve dragged this out more if he had wanted. Instead, his hand grabbed the top of the door to Eddie’s stall.

“You don’t get to see the end of this,” he said simply. “You haven’t earned that.”

Eddie almost fell forward. The stall door clicked open, Buck stepped out, closing the door behind him again. Eddie was shaking, not able to process the whiplash of the situation. He heard Buck walk down the row of showers, his wet footsteps echoing impossibly loud over the rush of blood in Eddie’s ears, the beating of his heart.

Another shower turned on again.

He fell back against the wall, trembling, breathing like a man drowning. Holding his fists still clenched behind his back. He was shaking so bad he thought his knees might give in for real this time.

His body screamed for relief. His mind screamed worse. Because he could hear Buck a few stalls down. A few soft exhales, the unmistakable sound of fingers around a cock.

And Eddie was not allowed to see it.

Fuck.

*

Eddie’s knees ached. Kneeling on the hard floor without cushion was no joke. It had been Buck’s new rule from the start. If he wanted comfort, he’d have to ask for it. And he hadn’t earned that right. Not yet. Maybe not ever again.

He kept his back straight, arms relaxed, palms on his thighs, breath slow and quiet like Buck had taught him that first time they’d done this. This was Eddie’s new normal.

His mind should’ve been empty. He should’ve been focused on posture and obedience, on what he’d write in the journal later.

But his eyes were glued to Buck, it had been two days since the thing in the shower at work. Buck was doing very mundane things, and still Eddie was unable to look away. He was walking in the kitchen, cleaning up, while Eddie was kneeling next to the couch. He didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak to him.

It was killing him.

Eddie blinked hard, yanked his gaze downward, stared at a spot on the floor. Buck made his way to grab some things behind Eddie. He could hear his footsteps. Every pass behind him made his skin tighten. His lungs fluttering with every shift in air pressure. Was Buck looking at him?

He missed Buck’s touch. Missed his voice when it softened. Missed the way Buck brushed his hand down his neck and murmured how good Eddie was. He even missed the casual bumping of their shoulders. Their fucking fist-bumps.

Eddie missed their fucking fist-bumps.

“Stay still,” Buck said from behind him, calm but clipped. “You flinched.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied. He hadn’t even noticed.

There was a pause, long enough to make his stomach twist.

“Why did you flinch?”

Eddie frowned. He still didn’t turn, but there was something in Buck’s tone… something softer, concerned.

“I don’t know, sir,” Eddie replied honestly. “I didn’t notice.”

“Three minutes added to your time.”

A flush lit up Eddie’s chest. He wanted to protest, to explain that it hadn’t been on purpose, that his muscles were cramping, that the floor was digging into his knees like punishment—but Buck didn’t want explanations.

The flush spread to his cheeks. The shame mingled with something else. Something low and liquid and humiliatingly intense in his stomach.

Jesus. There was something seriously wrong with Eddie.

Because this version of Buck, this Buck that was all steel and structure did things to Eddie. Something dark and quiet and devastating. Which was really… weird. And so many other words Eddie just couldn’t think of right now.

A coil of heat sat low in his belly, heavy and impossible to ignore. He had never known his skin could feel too tight, but apparently, Buck made him feel like his skin felt too tight. Again. His pulse thundered under his skin. The ache between his legs wasn’t even remotely subtle anymore, but he didn’t dare shift.

“You still want this?”

Eddie wanted to cry at the question. Because dios mío, yes! Yes, he still wanted this. He wanted this so badly his chest hurt. So, he nodded.  

“No,” Buck said sharply, finally walking around to come stand in front of Eddie. He didn’t look up at him. “You speak when I ask you a direct question”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, throat tight.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I still want this. More than anything.”

Another beat of silence, before Buck’s foot came into view. His socks were striped, grey and black. It was something of a distraction Eddie was looking for, before Buck cut of all his brain signals. He put his foot on Eddie’s crotch.

“You’re hard.”

The pressure made Eddie’s spine go ramrod straight. Heat exploded across his face. He bit his lip to keep embarrassing sounds inside.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“I didn’t give you permission.”

“I know, sir,” Eddie mumbled, eyes fixed on Buck’s foot as it pressed a little harder, teasing his already leaking dick. He had ruined too many boxers and pants this way. “I’m sorry.”

And it was moments like these, that Eddie actually felt at ease. No matter the beating of his heart. The uncomfortable situation in his pants. But he was giving in to Buck’s demands. He was submitting to Buck’s demands. Which was… well, his new normal, he guessed.

It could also be a reason for his failed relationships. But those thoughts were for another time.

Buck moved his toes, making Eddie bite his lip. He teased the outline of his hard cock.

“You’ve been horny a lot lately.”

Eddie didn’t even need a mirror to know his whole face was bright red. Why did Buck always know exactly what to say to make him blush? And why did Eddie let Buck’s words affect him this much?

“Is that also a side effect of the medicine?” Buck asked, stepping back. Finally.

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. “No, sir.”

Eddie looked up, just as Buck sat down in the armchair legs spread, head tilted a little to the side. “Then, how come, Eddie?”

He wasn’t even fucking trying and he was the most gorgeous man on this world.

And out of nowhere, Eddie felt some rush, his brain short-circuiting. He felt bold. Or desperate. Or both. If Buck wanted to play this game, Eddie could play it too. “Because you look like that,” he replied. “…sir.”

“Is that so?” Buck licked his bottom lip, leaning back. “Because I look like what, exactly?”

Eddie’s lips twitched. “You know what you look like.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Buck’s tone was smooth almost nonchalant, but his eyes were sharp, locked on Eddie like he would peel the answer straight from his tongue.

Eddie hesitated, but eventually let the words tumble out before he could stop them. “You look like the kind of man I should stay away from.”

Buck’s brows lifted, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “And yet, here you are. On your knees.”

Eddie glanced down briefly, then back up, testing the waters. “Yeah. Lucky me.”

Buck laughed, surprised, yet amused. “Is that sarcasm, Diaz?”

“No, sir,” Eddie replied, trying to suppress his own smirk. “Just a… comment.”

Buck leaned forward slightly in the chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. His gaze dragged over Eddie like a slow burn. “You’re getting mouthy.”

“You said you missed me talking,” Eddie shot back, recalling what Buck had said a few days ago during their shift.

“I said I missed your smart-ass comments,” Buck corrected. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t punish you for them.”

Eddie swallowed, feeling the tension between them coil tighter.  “Is that a promise?” he asked, softly, playfully.

Buck tilted his head again, then smiled. “You really are impossible.”

“One of my strengths,” Eddie said, meeting his eyes. “Besides, you like that about me.”

“Oh, do I?” Buck teased.

For a beat, the silence between them wasn’t charged, or heavy—it was just full. Full of affection, attraction, more than the friendship they had built over the years.

Buck’s voice dropped. “You’re trouble.”

Eddie lifted his chin, lips twitching. “What can I say? I learn from the best.”

Buck laughed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe him. And Eddie couldn’t believe this either. They were laughing with one another. Had Eddie won him over? Had he proved he deserved this?

“You’re not supposed to flirt with me when you’re being punished.”

Eddie shrugged, giving Buck a look. “Maybe I like multitasking.”

That earned him a look back. The kind of look that made his stomach flip and his throat go dry.

“Is that what this is?” Buck asked, voice sounding slightly like a warning. “You flirting with me?”

Eddie blinked innocently, and looked up at Buck throw his lashes. “Me? Never. I’m just… appreciating the view.”

Buck leaned even closer, making Eddie’s pulse stutter. “You’re saying I’m nice to look at while I discipline you?”

Eddie’s breath hitched for real this time, as he could only focus on the blue in Buck’s eyes. “You’re kind of hot when you’re bossy.”

Buck’s jaw ticked. Then he leaned back again like he needed the space. “Jesus, Eddie.”

Eddie tilted his head like Buck had done earlier. He was playing with fire now. “What? You asked.”

“Say that again,” Buck said softly. “But say it like you mean it.”

Eddie didn’t have enough time to process what that meant, so he filed it away in his mind to think about later. “You’re hot when you’re bossy, Buck,” he repeated. “Technically you’re always hot.”

Buck smiled. “Good boy.” Then he stood. “I’ll bring you your journal in a few, then we’ll have dinner.”

*

Eddie was smiling at his son. Christopher was laughing with Jee, pairing up to wet Denny and Mara. The garden of Bobby and Athena’s house was alive with sound—sizzling from the grill, clinking glasses, the rhythmic splash of the kids throwing water balloons at each other. It was wholesome. Lighthearted. The kind of thing that made everyone relax.

Eddie forced himself to look relaxed, to stand still and smile and nod where appropriate—but every muscle was a live wire, his pulse drumming like a warning behind his ribs. He felt like a man standing in a burning building, pretending he didn’t see the flames. Even as he was standing with Hen and Chim, his eyes kept wandering to Buck. He was sitting alone on the back porch steps, bottle of beer loose in one hand, his other arm draped over his knee like he was the goddamn king of the garden.

They were three weeks into punishment, and Buck was still playing this game like he was born for it.

The first week had been cold. Distant. Obedience with no reward. No contact. Barely even eye contact. The second week had been cruel in the sweetest way—whispers and commands, fingers brushing past but never touching, the situation in the shower at work, the good boy Eddie had craved after he had called Buck hot.

Eddie had been pretending to laugh at something Hen said, his plate balanced on one hand, when he felt it. That slow, invisible tug. He turned, and Buck was already watching him. Buck nodded to a spot next to him and Eddie could see the order in his eyes—come sit, Eddie.

His legs moved before he could excuse himself with the others. The walk across the lawn felt longer than it should have, like the air was too thick. He sat down two steps below Buck, plate forgotten on the porch rail, eyes focused on the grass.

“You’ve been good today,” Buck murmured, so low Eddie barely caught it under the music and kids yelling.

Eddie’s ears burned. “I didn’t do anything.”

Buck leaned in a fraction. “Exactly.”

Eddie swallowed. “Buck…”

“Shh.” A lazy sip of beer, the glass clink of the bottle lowering. “Don’t worry. They’re all busy stuffing their faces with Bobby’s ribs or getting soaked by the kids. No one’s listening.”

But Eddie wasn’t worried about them, he knew Buck wouldn’t do anything really public. He was worried about how close Buck’s thigh was to his. How the words you’ve been good today made his stomach twist and heat bloom low and deep.

Buck nudged his foot against Eddie’s shoe. “You’re flushed. That from the sun, or because I said something nice?”

Eddie didn’t answer.

“I could say more,” Buck hummed, nonchalantly taking another sip of his beer. “Could tell you how good you look on your knees. How much I’d like to kiss you right now. How good I could make you feel if you keep being good for me.”

“Buck,” Eddie hissed under his breath, shifting.

Buck chuckled and tilted the beer bottle between his hands. “You started it. There is no logical explanation to show so much of your chest. And then you come over like a good boy without me even saying anything. Don’t pout about the consequences.”

Eddie looked down at his clothes. Sure, he had unbuttoned two extra buttons when he had a rush of confidence and knew he’d see Buck again—he hadn’t expected him to flat-out call him out on it though.

Buck’s tone softened. “Read your journal last night again, by the way.”

Eddie tensed. “You… read that?”

“It’s really a good way of knowing what you won’t say out loud,” Buck hummed. Then he looked at him, a little confused. “Wait… You didn’t know that?”

“Well, uh, you never said something before, so I guess I didn’t.”

Buck nodded. “Apologies. Faulty of me.”

Eddie shrugged. “It’s fine.” He really didn’t mind.

There was a long silence between them. Wind shifting, the faint scent of grilled corn and charcoal drifting in the air. Someone, probably Jee or Mara, shrieked from the far end of the garden, but Eddie was barely hearing anything anymore. He was waiting on what Buck had read that made him say that. He wanted to discuss something.

“So…” Buck started eventually. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was pawning you off,” Buck said. His voice was gentle now, stripped of that low teasing edge he’d been wielding easily all week. “I just… I didn’t want you to feel like you had to settle for me. Or like this… meant anything more than it did.”

Eddie blinked down at his hands, gripping his own knees like they were the only thing tethering him to the earth. “I didn’t like it,” he said.

“I gathered,” Buck murmured. And of course he knew, he had read the journal. He had read the page and a half that Eddie had written about how he felt like Buck didn’t want him. And maybe there had been too much truth on that paper.

Eddie cleared his throat, rectifying the situation He glanced over at Buck. “I just… we’ve been friends for a long time. You feel safe. Familiar. You understand me without all the awkwardness of trying to explain how my brain works, or how I sometimes say one thing but mean a completely different thing.” Eddie picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “So when you offered to… to introduce me to others, it felt like you were trying to get rid of me. Like I was just something you didn’t want to be responsible for.”

Buck’s breath caught. Then under his breath he murmured, “which is why you never answered.”

Eddie hummed. “And it didn’t matter how nice you were about it,” he went on, steadier now. This was still only Buck after all. “You still looked me in the eye after everything we did, everything I showed you of myself, and basically said, this was a one-time thing, but here’s a list of women I know who’ll take you from here.” He shook his head. “I know I only asked for one scene, but I…” Eddie swallowed. “I just didn’t like how that felt.”

Buck was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “You think I don’t want you?”

Eddie forced himself to look at Buck, but didn’t know how to answer that. Because he didn’t know how Buck felt. If he did this as some funny side thing, or if he’d describe what he did with Eddie like how he used to describe his times at the club: some sort of relief—Eddie didn’t dare to let himself think if Buck wanted this the same way Eddie wanted.

A breath passed between them. Buck made a soft, helpless sound—half-laugh, half-exhale—and it punched something loose in Eddie’s chest. “I am just scared, Eddie.”

And it sounded so sincere, it made Eddie frown. “Why?”

Buck gave him a somber smile. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for you. Normally I do a scene at the club and we both go our separate ways, amicable. And if we both liked it, we can do it again, if we didn’t, we leave it at that. And I, I thought with you… if I kept neat, kept it sperate, it’d be safer. Cleaner. Easier to walk away if either of us got spooked. But then… you got spooked, and I lost you, Eddie.”

“You didn’t lose me, Buck.”

“Well, it felt that way, Eddie,” Buck pressed.

Eddie just looked at Buck. “I’m not spooked anymore.”

“I know,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

The statement surprised Eddie. “Have I shown you that you can trust me, now?”

Buck huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Not so fast, Diaz,” he hummed, sipping from his beer again.

Eddie stared at him for a second, then said quietly, “I only want you.”

The words landed like something final, like the end of a long, winding road Eddie had walked alone. One where he could finally appreciated the sunset painted against the mountains.

Buck’s eyes visibly softened. “I only want you too.”

And Eddie flinched—just slightly, just enough that he hoped Buck wouldn’t notice. Because Buck’s voice was warm, but casual. Honest, but fleeting. Like he meant for the coming scenes, this summer, right now until someone better came along. And Eddie… Eddie meant for the rest of his life.

Athena’s voice shattered their moment. “Christopher, baby, come here. You’re turning red again—and your father is occupied elsewhere.” She gave them a look, a bottle of sunscreen in her hand.

Eddie barely registered her. He caught the shift of movement in his periphery, but his gaze didn’t leave Buck’s. Not even for a second.

Buck took a slow sip of his beer, hand steady, eyes still on Eddie’s. He watched the sun glint off the bottle, the flex of Buck’s throat, the pulse moving steadily under his skin. and something warm and terrifying bloomed behind Eddie’s ribs—wide and full and undeniable.   

Buck’s other hand drifted down, brushing against Eddie’s on the step between them. Just a whisper of contact, knuckles grazing. Eddie forgot how to breathe. Every nerve in his body lit up, sharp and electric. That featherlight touch, just knuckles brushing, crackled through him like lighting striking dry earth.

Buck had touched him. Skin on skin. Finally.

It wasn’t just touching. It was much bigger. It was Buck breaking another rule he had buried them under. It was lighting striking in a dry field.

And everything inside Eddie was already burning.