Archive of Our Own ^beta

Steve

On the way home from school, Steve strolls up to the Rexall Drug on the corner, hearing the little bell jingle as the door opens and closes. He walks the aisles, and finally finds what he's looking for. Picking a box up. Taking it to the front of the store, Steve stares Mr. Fulton right in the eye as he puts the box of K-Y Jelly on the counter. The old fart looks down, and then back up at Steve.

"Recommended by doctors," Steve says, tapping the box. 

Mr. Fulton shakes his head, muttering, but then turns to the wall behind him where they keep all the stuff they don't want kids shoplifting, and picks up a box of Trojans. Putting them on the counter. Pushing them towards Steve.

"We don't need two of you," Mr. Fulton says dryly, and Steve grins. Not really a concern, but he's not about to get into that downtown Hawkins. Steve takes the cash out of his wallet and hands it over as Mr. Fulton rings him up. Steve's not embarrassed. He knows what he needs, at least he thinks he does, and he's not about to not get what he wants because he's suddenly shy.

Fuck that.

He stops by the Fair Mart next, and buys a six-pack of Mountain Dew. That's not what he usually drinks, but it is what he's seen Eddie with at school more often than not. 

At home, Steve isn't totally sure what to do with himself for the rest of the night. Did he really preposition Eddie Munson of all people? He did, and he'd do it again.

He takes a shower, and an hour later takes a second one because he's not sure how clean he's supposed to try and get. Lathering up again, he just wants to do it right. Nobody's ever messed with his ass besides himself. His fingers brush through the hair around his asshole, and he wonders if he should try and shave. Then he imagines how bad a nick would hurt, and definitely decides against it.

Hairy, for better or worse, is just how he comes. Take it or leave it.

Standing at the foot of his bed, he contemplates changing the sheets, even if knows he's probably gonna have to do it again afterwards. He likes this set of sheets, though. So he throws them in the washing machine. He should have time. 

He decides he better clean out the nightstand while he waits. Eddie is definitely a snooper. Steve looks in his top drawer. Condoms. A half-used tube of K-Y, squeezed right from the middle, and a handful of skin mags. 

He's not embarrassed by any of these things, he realizes, and closes the drawer. If Eddie wants to look, let him look. He did get the new tube of lube, just because that seemed like the polite thing to do.

Now, he's just gotta wait.

Eddie's late. Steve isn't too worried, everything he's ever known about Eddie Munson doesn't scream punctual. 

And if he doesn't come, well, he doesn't come. 

Steve was gonna let him fuck him, but he's definitely not trying to make him fuck him. 

Eddie

Eddie is stuck at the stop sign a block from Steve Harrington's house. Is he really doing this? With Steve Harrington?

Is it a date?

Did he agree to a date with Steve Harrington?

Definitely not a date. A hook-up. Casual sex. He can do that. He can do that, right? In theory. He kind of thinks Steve might have the wrong idea about how much Eddie knows about fucking men. Like, he wants to. But he's never really had the opportunity.

Most guys don't just lean close and offer it up, unprompted. At least not in Eddie's experience. Until Steve, that is.

Eddie's palms are sweaty. 

He wasn't nervous earlier, the weed eased the way a little, and Steve's confident energy was contagious. But now? Left to his own devices to think about things?

He's so fucking screwed. 

How is Steve Harrington so open with what he wants, what he needs? Eddie has never felt that kind of freedom, or safety, about his sexual desires in his entire life.

They really are from different worlds.

Eddie wouldn't have admitted to sucking dick without military-grade torture. Steve just said it so casually Eddie was sure he was kidding. He wasn't kidding, and Eddie knows he wasn't kidding about this offer, either. Steve Harrington, ready to jump in with both feet, like it's no big deal.

It's kind of a big deal.

Eddie wipes his hands on his jeans. His armpits are sweating, and he hopes his deodorant is doing its job. He can't turn up at Steve Harrington's house, a sweaty, smelly mess. That's the last thing he needs.

He lifts his arm and smells, and he's fine.

He's fine. Everything's fine.

But now it's ten after ten, and Steve Harrington probably doesn't think he's coming. He is. He definitely is. He just needs to scrounge up some fucking courage, someway, somehow.

He slams on the gas. Not giving himself any more time to chicken out.

When he finally pulls the van into the circle drive, and sees that the little garage up front has been left open. He assumes that's for him, and pulls in, hiding the van from the view of the street and any nosey neighbors.

Steve

Steve sees the headlights, and watches as Eddie pulls the van into the open garage. He's too excited to even play it cool. He just opens the door and grins at Eddie who stills, surprised to see him standing on the step. Bare feet on the cool concrete.

"Hey, you came," Steve says, and holds his arm out, inviting Eddie inside the house.

Eddie just nods, and doesn't say anything. It's weird. Eddie Munson should be running his mouth, he always has something to say about everything.

Steve takes his leather jacket, hanging it in the coat closet, and watches as Eddie shoves his hands in his jeans pockets.

"Want something to drink?" Steve asks, and leads him into the kitchen. He opens the fridge door, and lets Eddie look. There's the Mountain Dew, Coke and a few bottles of beer. There's one clerk in town that always lets him buy without asking questions.

Eddie takes a can of pop, and stands there awkwardly.

Eddie

Harrington needs to get this show on the road before Eddie chickens out. He doesn't need to be wined and dined, he knows that's not what this is. 

"Where's your bedroom?" Eddie asks abruptly, and Steve just smiles, looking delighted instead of annoyed. He's weird, weirder than Eddie ever knew, and Eddie kind of hates that he likes knowing that.

"Upstairs," he says, and puts his hand on Eddie's back, guiding him towards the staircase.

It's plaid. Very plaid. Everything is in its place, and the bed looks freshly made. Nothing like Eddie's bedroom at Wayne's.

Steve closes the door behind them, and Eddie sits the can on the shelf built into the bed frame behind Steve's bed. Steve pulls back the comforter and the sheets are a deep blue. 

The sheets smell good, fresh, like the expensive detergent they never splurge on at home. 

Even though he just showered, Eddie feels like he's going to muss them. Steve doesn't seem to share that concern though, pulling his shirt over his head, shucking his jeans, and then his underwear, before flopping on the bed, rolling over onto his stomach, waiting.

Steve Harrington definitely isn't shy. 

It's not like Eddie expected to seductively undress him or anything, but he just feels like he's struggling to keep up. Steve's two steps ahead of him at any given time. Eddie takes off his clothes, and then just stands there at the foot of the bed. Unsure what he's doing. 

But he's a bullshitter. He can bullshit his way into or out of anything with anyone.

Well, maybe he can't bullshit Steve Harrington and this weird situation he's somehow found himself in, because Eddie's sweating bullets, and this house definitely has enough air conditioning flowing through it.

Steve's on his belly, head propped on his arms, and he looks soft. At peace, like he's not at all nervous about what they're getting ready to do. Eyes closed, body loose, melting into the sheets. Eddie's staring. At his ass, rounded and covered in a dusting of hair. His thighs, even hairier. 

There's even a patch of hair at the small of his back.

Not to mention all the moles, all over, everywhere. Eddie wants to touch them all, trace them with his fingers, his tongue. He doesn't.

Steve Harrington is a man, a gorgeous man that has invited Eddie to touch him for some godforsaken reason.

But Eddie's stuck, frozen. His dick only half-hard, scared into non-performance. He strokes it, trying to get it hard enough to fuck Steve. He'll never be able to show his face in school again if Steve Harrington winds up thinking his dick doesn't work. 

"Eddie?" Steve asks, opening his eyes and looking back at Eddie. Watching him trying to get his cock to cooperate. That's not helping.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, crawling up on the bed, his knees bracketing Steve's thighs. He can feel Steve's leg hair brushing his own skin, and it tickles. If he closes his eyes and focuses on that maybe his dick will stop it with this stagefright bullshit.

"You've never done this either, have you?" Steve asks, and Eddie shakes his head. He could lie, maybe should even, but he doesn't.

Steve smiles, but it's not teasing or mean. They're in the same boat, after all. However, one of them is gonna have to lift a paddle soon, if they ever hope to get moving down this river.

"If you don't want—"

"—no way. I want to. I'm just…"

"Me too," Steve says, and shifts on the bed, rolling over onto his back, still wedged between Eddie's thighs. "C'mere."

Eddie listens, and leans forward, letting Steve wrap his arms around Eddie's shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss. 

This they've done before. 

When Eddie settles, he's half on the mattress, half on Steve's body, hands roaming, just touching each other as they kiss. 

And kiss, and kiss. Like, Eddie's never just made out with anyone for this amount of time. Just Steve in the attic earlier today. Was that really only today? It doesn't seem possible. But Steve clearly likes to kiss, and Eddie's not going to argue a counterpoint. 

He shifts, and his now insistently hard dick has gotten with the program, and brushes against Steve's hip.

Steve pulls back, eyes still soft, "It doesn't have to be tonight. It doesn't have to be ever, if you want to wait for somebody else. Somebody better."

Eddie presses his forehead to Steve's, getting close again. Somebody better than Steve Harrington? He's not sure that's a reasonable suggestion for him to be making. Steve is the one that should be waiting for somebody better. Somebody that isn't one more failed test away from repeating his senior year for a third time.

Somebody that knows what the fuck he's doing, so he can make it good for Steve.

"Have you ever had sex with a girl?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Just twice, but he has, and he's given a few rough and fast handjobs in the backrooms of dive bars. 

And then, well, whatever the fuck that was in the attic earlier. The blow job of all blow jobs. The standard he supposes he'll always measure everyone else by for the foreseeable future.

But he's never fucked a guy. He's never had the opportunity.

Steve rolls onto his side, and tangles their legs together. Scooting forward, and getting close enough that he can bring their dicks together, his large hand wrapping around both of them. 

"Wait," Steve suddenly says, and reaches under his pillow. He pulls out a brand new tube of K-Y, and squeezes some on his palm. Tossing the bottle back on the bed. He slicks each of them up separately, with a twist of his wrist.

Then, when he wraps his hand back around them, it feels even better, and Eddie groans. It feels so good. He can feel Steve's dick pressed against his, and his hand surrounding them both.

"Your hand's so big," Eddie says, and Eddie laughs. Eyes crinkling at the corners.

"My hand? That's the big thing you're focused on?" Steve says, and there he is. King Steve. Cocky, but always with the ability to back up what he says, somehow.

He should hate him. Probably did, just yesterday. Now, though? He's fucking charmed, and there's nothing Eddie appreciates more than being charmed by a fellow weirdo. And Steve Harrington? He's a weirdo in jock packaging that's currently jacking them both off so goddamn good. 

Eddie groans, and just lets himself feel Steve's touch. He thinks he was supposed to be the leader here, but Steve's got that totally under control right now, and Eddie's gonna let him. It feels too good not to. He's not gonna last long, it's too intense, and he shudders as he comes all over Steve's hand, both their cocks, as Steve keeps stroking. It's too much, way too much, and Eddie's about to force him to stop when Steve comes, too. Moaning, squeezing both of their cocks together one more time. He wipes them both off with a hand towel he'd clearly put on his nightstand just for this. 

Goddamn. 

No matter how good it was, Eddie's still a little regretful that he couldn't actually do what Steve had asked of him. Should he go? He's debating how to make his escape, when Steve drapes his arm over Eddie's shoulder, pulling him close.

Well, if he's invited to stay, he'll stay. And he closes his eyes.

Eddie's grinding against him, wanting, needing, and Steve's moaning like he needs this, too.

It's the middle of the night, and Eddie had assumed they'd shelved the idea.

Apparently not.

Steve takes his hand into his, running his fingertips over Eddie's nails. Eddie knows what he's doing. In theory, anyway. Eddie trimmed them before he came over, and even filed them smooth. Just to make sure. He's inexperienced, but not an idiot.

Then, Steve's hands are patting the bed, searching, looking, and Eddie finds what he's looking for and holds it up. Steve nods, and Eddie squeezes some, probably too much, on his own fingers. Pressing one against Steve's hole. Rubbing it around, and around. Stroking him, teasing a little, but not trying to go inside yet.

The whine Steve lets out spurs Eddie on. He just wishes he was able to see what he's doing. It's too dark in here, with just the moonlight coming through the windows.

Steve's on his side, Eddie behind him, and Eddie presses his index finger in, not too deep, and definitely not too hard, but he's never felt anything like it. The way Steve's fisting the sheets, he thinks he's not the only one.

"Okay?" Eddie whispers, and Steve's immediately nodding.

"Good, it's good," he assures, and Eddie slides his finger out, then in again. Trying to be gentle. Careful. He wants this to be good for Steve, because it's clearly something he wants and has wanted for a while, it seems. Eddie doesn't want to be the one to fuck that all up for him. 

He may not know what he's doing, but common sense tells him what not to do. He knew to trim his nails. He knows to eventually crook his fingers towards Steve's belly. See if he can find his prostate.

Eddie reads. Underground magazines, made for people like him. He's not clueless.

But he's also never applied any of this knowledge in a real life setting before, and Steve is very real right in front of him.

The realest thing he's ever experienced, maybe.

Fingering Steve Harrington, listening to his breath hitch, relishing every little moan. Every whine.

"Right there," Steve says, and Eddie can follow directions. He keeps stroking, steady and sure, playing him like an instrument.

And when Eddie makes him come, Steve clenching down on his fingers, it might be his proudest moment.

It's mid-morning, and the sunlight has warmed Steve's room to a nice glow. Steve's sleeping on his stomach, and Eddie is just staring at him. He really should probably go now. He starts to move, to slide out of bed, make his escape before he's asked to leave, but Steve rolls over and hooks his leg over Eddie's hips. Calf pressing into Eddie's ass. Pulling him closer. 

"Don't go anywhere," Steve mumbles, arm sliding over Eddie's shoulder, pulling their bodies flush together. "I still want you to fuck me."

Goddamn. Yeah.

Eddie won't go anywhere. Fuck. He definitely won't.

The tube of lube is on Steve's chest, along with a condom. He's still loose from earlier, Eddie made sure. 

They're really doing this. The real deal. 

"Ready?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. 

He's beautiful in this light, every freckle and mole standing out against his skin. His hairy chest on full display.

Eddie's not going to survive Steve Harrington, he's sure of it. Every bit of bluster he's ever felt has evaporated, because he's invested in making sure this is good for him, for both of them. 

Steve picks up the condom, tearing it open, handing it to Eddie. Eddie takes it, and shakily rolls it down his hard cock. He was a little concerned he'd get stage fright again, but that hasn't seemed to be an issue at all. He's turned on by Steve, by how comfortable Steve has seemed all night. If Steve's not stressing, Eddie shouldn't be either.

Steve

Eddie laughs as Steve squeezes a dollop of lube on the head of his cock, and watches as he spreads it down the condom, and then rubs more on Steve's hole.

He's never felt anything like Eddie's fingers in him, doing it to himself definitely doesn't compare, and he can only imagine that Eddie's cock will feel even better.

Lining up, Eddie is pressing the head inside him, and Steve sucks in a breath. It feels so much bigger. He breathes deep, and Eddie's hand is on his thigh, grounding him.

"Still good," Steve assures, and it is. Different, for sure, but it doesn't hurt, not really, but it's weird. It pinches, just a little. It's uncomfortable. But it doesn't hurt, and he already feels so full with Eddie just barely pressing inside.

When the head of Eddie's cock pops all the way in, Steve whines, high and loud at the intrusion, squeezing his own dick. Scared he's gonna come too soon, just from the idea that he's finally being fucked, let alone the sensations it's bringing.

Eddie squeezes more lube around his hole, and Steve feels it warm up and drip from where they're connected. Steve reaches up and squeezes Eddie's bicep, and smiles at him, "You're fucking me."

The look Eddie gives him shakes Steve to the goddamn core. It's sweet, and kind. Steve's not sure how this is the same Eddie Munson he's spent years avoiding dealing with just to sidestep the hassle that follows him like a cloud.

"Not yet, but soon," Eddie says, and his eyes are glued to Steve's hole, clearly watching where his cock is inside him, even if it's just the tip.

Steve laughs.

Eddie smiles, "What?"

"Just the tip," Steve says, and rubs his hand against his own chest. Touching his chest hair, his thumb brushing his nipple. He clenches down on Eddie's cockhead, just a little.

Eddie groans.

"Goddamn, Harrington. Keep that up and it's gonna end before it starts."

Steve just smiles, "It's already started."

And it has. This whole night has brought him to life in a way nobody else ever has. Steve doesn't know if it's the sex, or the lack of judgement he's getting from Eddie for wanting this.

Maybe it's just Eddie, in general.

"More," Steve says, and Eddie nods his head, slowly pushing more of his length into Steve.

Steve tips his head back against the pillow, chin raising towards the ceiling. It's so good. He's so full. 

He's finally whole.

This is what he's been missing.

The tears are unexpected, and he swipes at them with the back of his hand.

"Am I hurting you?" Eddie asks, voice worried, as he begins pulling back.

Steve darts a hand out, grabbing his forearm, "No. No, you're not."

Eddie stills, and Steve opens his eyes, his wet lashes clinging together, blurring his vision. But he's honest. He's been honest with Eddie since the locker room, and that's not changing now, "I was meant to do this."

Eddie's face is open. Big eyes staring back at him, "You were. Fuck Steve, you were," Eddie says, leaning forward to kiss Steve and that movement, that shifting, slides him deeper inside. "Look at you, you were made to be on my cock."

Steve moans against Eddie's mouth, breathing heavy, hard, and Eddie pulls his hips back a little, then pushes back in. Testing the water. Steve feels like his whole body is loose, there's not the kind of resistance he'd imagined. Not even the resistance he's felt when he's been all alone, trying to get the angle right. He's not trying to lock everything down to keep Eddie out. He wants to invite him in, deeper and deeper.

He thought being fucked might feel good, but this has shifted his whole world, somehow. He wasn't prepared for it.

More lube, lots more, and more gentle progress. It's a game of inches, Steve thinks, and he's winning as Eddie starts a gentle, shallow rhythm. 

Steve's never felt anything like it in his whole goddamn life. 

When Eddie's cock brushes past his prostate, everything in Steve tenses with the intense sensation of pleasure he's never felt before.

"Goddamn," Steve breathes, "right there. Right there."

He takes stock of how he feels.

Nothing hurts. He feels full.

He feels settled. 

He feels happy. 

He feels lightning tugging at his groin, rolling pleasure he's never felt before. Waves and waves.

"More. Eddie, please, more," he begs, and Eddie gives him their first real thrust. Steve whines, high pitched and squeezes his own cock. "Yes, fuck me."

And Eddie does. Gently, but growing his confidence with every thrust. They're learning together.

"If, if we hadn't, two other times," Eddie breathes out, snapping his hips against Steve's ass, "I'd have come the second my cock touched your hole," Eddie admits, and Steve laughs. Eddie laughs with him, "Forget getting inside. It's a good thing we didn't go straight to it, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this."

Steve gives him a smile, he wouldn't have wanted to miss this either.

Eddie

Steve's golden, laid back on the pillow, his hair a goddamn mess. Waiting to be praised. Waiting to be loved.

Eddie isn't sure he's the man to do the latter, but he can definitely do the former.

"You're doing so good, you're perfect. You feel so good, Steve," Eddie tells him, and Steve reacts to it, face looking even more pleased than it did a moment earlier.

Steve Harrington's gonna get out of this town, and he's gonna flourish. Eddie knows it, looking down at him. He's gonna land somewhere that's ready for him, all of him, and that city better watch the fuck out.

Because he's a sight to behold.

Eddie's getting close. Even with the two other warm-up rounds, he's not gonna last. This is too good, too new, too tight. He just needs Steve to come first.

He lets his hips open more, trying to brush Steve's prostate. It was easier to find with his fingers than his cock, that's for damn sure. 

But he must, because Steve gasps, and clenches at the sheets, "That's it, that's it," Eddie coaches.

Steve's nodding along, his hard cock laying against his belly, leaking. He's close. Eddie got him close, and thinking about that is gonna send Eddie over the edge.

He's gotta take Steve with him.

Eddie wraps his hand around Steve's cock, applying the hard pressure he knows he prefers, giving him a slow, firm stroke.

In one day, he learned Steve Harrington's preferences. 

"Nothing feels better than this. Nothing will ever feel better than this, sweetheart," Eddie says, and that does it. Steve clenches down on him, coming so hard some of it lands in his chest hair, maybe even catching himself under the chin.

Eddie thrusts one more time, and empties into the condom.

When he pulls out, he goes slow, so slow, and Steve watches it happen, intently. 

He slides out, holding the base of the condom.

"I miss you already," Steve says, and Eddie doesn't even have the condom off yet.

Steve Harrington is gonna kill him. 

And he might enjoy every second of it.

They're curled together, and it's not uncomfortable. Maybe it should be, but Eddie can't help it, as weird as it is, he feels at ease touching Steve Harrington.

"Say it again," Steve whispers, voice thick, like he was nearly asleep but had one final thought. 

"You did good," Eddie tells him, and he can tell that's not what he was asking for, so he quietly adds on the end, "sweetheart."

Steve's not his sweetheart, not really. Eddie knows that. But if he wants to hear it, Eddie is happy to say it.

Tonight was good, great, a better first time than he'd ever anticipated having with a guy, that's for damn sure.

For tonight, Steve Harrington is his sweetheart.

It's afternoon, and Eddie's getting hungry, but he's ignoring it, because Steve Harrington is straddling his hips.

The sun is warm, casting a glow all over the room that seems cinematic. Unreal. Designed by professionals, not something that happens in real life. Like, this surely is a dream. 

The trailer never gets light like this, Steve Harrington really is the chosen one. Nobody should look as warm, as beautiful, as Steve Harrington looks right now. A strip of golden light from the window, cutting across his chest. 

Steve holds Eddie's cock, carefully guiding it into place, the head bumping against Steve as he lines up, then sinks down with a groan.

"Oh yeah, that's it, sweetheart, Ride me," Eddie tells him, grasping at his hips as Steve grinds on his cock, building up a rhythm, taking what he wants, what he needs, what Eddie is more than willing to give him.

His confidence is contagious, apparently, because Eddie feels self-assured, even if he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing as Steve works himself up and down Eddie's cock like he knows exactly what he needs.

Maybe he does. 

Steve's hand is on his own chest, fingers pinching his own nipple, and Eddie thinks this all may be a fever dream Steve Harrington is bouncing on his cock, touching himself, and letting out breathy whines that Eddie will hear rattling around in his brain until his dying day.

Eddie just enjoys it. Enjoys Steve. Never wants to let him go.

"I wanna handcuff you to my bed, never let you leave," Eddie says, running his mouth. Emboldened after hours of this bubble they've been in.

Steve's hips jerk, suddenly out of sync, coming all over both of them and the sensation is incredible. He's pulsing, hugging, gripping Eddie's cock even through the condom. Head thrown back, whining. It's more than enough to push Eddie over the precipice right after him.

Steve stays seated, cheeks flush and hair damp. Eyes closed. 

"Sweetheart," Eddie finally says. He's going soft, they've got to deal with the condom now, or there's gonna be a mess. "The condom."

Steve whines a little, but moves to slide off as Eddie holds the base of his dick, making sure Steve doesn't take the condom with him.

The sun is setting and Wayne's probably gonna wonder where the hell he's been all goddamn day. He just can't make himself leave if Steve isn't forcing him to go. He'll overstay his welcome as long as he can, he's afraid. He just wouldn't pick swimming, if given options.

Steve hands him a pair of swim trunks, too short, but at least they're a dark navy blue.

"We just ate. You know the rule: thirty minutes."

Steve rolls his eyes, "That's mom propaganda. I've swam miles and miles after eating. You'll be fine."

Well, Eddie tried.

And as if to prove a point, Steve grabs another slice of pizza from the box, taking a big bite. Then offers it to Eddie. Eddie takes a bite. He's afraid he'd do anything, everything, Steve Harrington might suggest.

He's a sheepie.

At least when it comes to Harrington, apparently. Ready and willing to join his flock.

He should be embarrassed, he's pretty damn sure.

When they jump in the pool, Eddie comes up, shaking out his wet hair. Steve swims closer, and slides his hands over Eddie's wet shoulders. Kissing him. Touching him. Steve has seemingly wanted Eddie to touch him continuously over the past day, like he's desperate for that connection.

Eddie loves to touch, so he's been happy to give that to him. It's easy, comes natural, and makes him feel like he's good at providing Steve with something he clearly wants, craves.

His charitability dims, just a little, when Steve dunks him underwater, and Eddie comes up spluttering. He hadn't expected it. Not at all. But now Steve Harrington is roughhousing him, pushing and pulling and climbing all over him, stealing kisses every so often. Steve's bigger than him, more athletic, but Eddie's scrappy. Used to getting out of binds, and he gives Harrington a run for his money. 

They wrestle around, and Steve's giggling the whole time. It makes Eddie smile. Steve Harrington has been so sullen, for so long, and before that so cocky that Eddie's never seen this side of him before. 

He's goddamn playful. 

Breathing heavy, tired out, Steve wraps his legs around Eddie's waist, and pushes Eddie's wet hair off his forehead. Looking down at him from where Eddie's holding him up, hands locked under Steve's ass. 

His eyes are soft, and he's looking right at Eddie intently.

"Thanks," he finally says quietly, "this was fun. All of it."

He looks like maybe that isn't something Eddie would want to hear, but fuck, of course he does. He's come like four times in twenty-four hours and has gotten to engage in some horseplay he wouldn't usually admit to being fun under pain of death. But really. He's not exactly been put out here.

He's had fun, too. 

"It was," Eddie says, and he knows the day is winding down. He gets it. But if Steve Harrington could put himself out on a limb, over and over, if he could be that brave, well hell. Maybe Eddie can, too.

"If you ever want to do it again, or anything else. I'm down," Eddie says. And he means it. Even if Steve just wants to hang out, as Jesus H. Christ, god forbid, friends, Eddie thinks he might enjoy that. He's just not sure Steve would. He might have gotten everything he needed from Eddie already.

He shouldn't have worried.

"Well, yeah. I was promised handcuffs," Steve says with a bright smile, kissing him again. Hand buried in Eddie's hair, legs clinging to him, like he may never let him go for there to even be a next time. It just might be one, long, continuous date for all Eddie knows. Boyfriends? Jesus Christ, are they gonna be boyfriends?

What does he know about that? Nothing.

What he does know, though, is that he's never gonna be the same after this. Eddie realizes that now. Steve Harrington is gonna change him in ways he can't begin fathom. He's expected to go to school on Monday, knowing what he knows now? Knowing how Steve Harrington sounds when he comes? Knowing that he wants to be cuffed to Eddie's bed and fucked? Impossible. Everything he thought he knew isn't true anymore.

He might have a boyfriend. It feels like maybe Steve Harrington's gonna try to be his boyfriend now. But Eddie doesn't know shit about that. He's never been anyone's boyfriend before, and he's sure he'd be terrible at it.

"I don't know anything about being a boyfriend," Eddie blurts out, and then feels his face get hot. Steve didn't say anything about being boyfriends. That was all Eddie putting his foot in his mouth, putting the horse before the cart, definitely.

But Steve just grins, telling him assuredly, "Oh, don't worry about that. I know more than enough for the both of us."