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It should honestly be illegal for someone to be this fucking hot.
The mattress dips, the headboard ticks the wall in that quiet little rhythm they’ve accidentally made their own, and Eddie’s brain just whites out because— God, how could it not?
Buck is the most beautiful man Eddie’s ever seen.
Curls a mess from Eddie’s hands. Mouth pink, already a little swollen. That flush climbing high on his cheeks like sunrise, the fresh hickey blooming against the pale skin of his neck. He’s got one palm spread on Eddie’s chest, the other hooked at his shoulder, not for balance so much as contact.
Buck sinks all the way down Eddie’s cock, a long, shaking exhale leaving him as he bottoms out, and Eddie’s hands come up to his hips automatically. Not to move him. Just to hold.
Eddie’s gaze can’t decide where to live. It drifts greedily: the long line of Buck’s throat, the flex of his thighs bracketing Eddie’s hips, the way his lashes shiver when it gets good.
It’s stupid how pretty he is. It’s unfair. It’s cosmically rude.
And God, Eddie loves him. He loves him so much it scares him and settles him in equal measure.
He feels split open by it. It’s too much. It’s not enough. He wants to close his eyes beneath the weight of it but he can’t, because what if he misses even one second of Buck like this?
“Unfair,” Eddie mutters, thumbs rubbing slow circles into Buck’s hips without permission from his higher brain. “Absolutely criminal, looking this good.”
Buck’s mouth tips, helpless and pleased. “Oh yeah? You gonna do something about it?”
“Later,” Eddie says, and his voice comes out softer than he meant, full of that warm, ridiculous thing that’s taken up permanent residence under his ribs. “Right now I’m— I’m busy.”
Busy watching Buck take him like they were built to fit. Busy memorizing him all over again, like he won’t wake up to the same miracle tomorrow and the day after that. Busy being undone, quietly and completely, by the simple fact that Buck is here and he chooses Eddie, slow and sure, every single time.
“Eddie,” Buck chokes out. “Do not— do not look at me like that right now, man, I will come on the spot.”
Eddie’s laugh comes out as a groan, wrecked and low. “Yeah?” he says, thumbs stroking lower onto Buck’s thighs, slow, like he’s soothing him and winding him tighter at the same time. “That easy?”
“For you?” Buck’s eyes flicker, pupils swallowing every last bit of blue. “Apparently.”
Then he rolls his hips.
Not even hard— just a slow, controlled grind down and forward that seats Eddie even deeper and drags sweet pressure right where Buck wants it. Buck’s mouth falls open on a soft, punched-out “oh,” and Eddie forgets how to function.
His whole body jerks and a sound comes out of him that makes him eternally grateful they have an empty house tonight.
“Jesus—” Eddie grits, voice already wrecked. “Okay. Okay. That’s… yeah. Do that again.”
Buck hums, pleased with himself, and does it again.
Eddie is going to die in this bed, and honestly that feels fine. He’d like lilies at the funeral, please.
“Later,” Eddie manages, voice rough, “we’re gonna circle back to you calling me ‘man’ while my dick’s inside you. ‘Cause that’s— I mean—” He swallows, sharp. “That’s a choice.”
Buck lets out this breathless, shaky laugh that breaks into a gasp halfway through because Eddie rolls his hips up when he says inside you, and Buck feels it all the way up his spine.
“Oh my God,” Buck whispers, hands braced on Eddie’s chest like he needs something to hold onto. “Shut up.”
“Can’t,” Eddie says, and thrusts again, slow, controlled, all the way in.
Buck’s head drops back and his mouth falls open soundlessly.
Eddie watches that, transfixed. And then he does it again, just to see it once more.
Buck lets out the prettiest sound Eddie’s ever heard in his life. “Jesus,” he groans. “Okay. Yeah. No more ‘man’ in bed—”
Eddie makes a noise that starts as a laugh and ends as a moan. “Okay,” he gets out, breathless, hips already starting to move again, hitching up to meet each slow roll of Buck’s. “Then what?”
“Hmm,” Buck hums, lazy and smug. He slides his hands up Eddie’s chest, palms warm, thumbs brushing over Eddie’s nipples just to feel him jolt. “What d’you think?”
He lifts up slow, just the first few inches, making Eddie feel the drag of every centimeter of him, and then drops back down in one deep, filthy grind— hips rolling forward at the bottom so he sits flush, all the way down, perfect pressure, perfect angle, like he’s settling Eddie somewhere inside him and locking him there.
Eddie’s brain shorts for a second. His hands clamp down on Buck’s hips, fingers digging in. “Christ,” he mutters. “You can’t just ask me that while you’re riding me, I’m not— I don’t have higher brain function right now.”
Buck tips forward, forehead to Eddie’s, both of them panting into each other’s mouths. He smiles, dazed and wrecked and smug all at once. “Figure it out,” he whispers, and then he grinds down hard.
“Buuuuck,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut as his head tips back.
Buck gasps, full-body. “Yeah,” he breathes. “That. Say my name like that.”
Eddie does. He says Buck like both a curse and a prayer, and he feels Buck clench around him at it.
“Okay,” Eddie says, voice dropping, pride and hunger bleeding together into something dangerous. “Yeah. That’s good. That’s real good.” He drags his thumbs slowly up over Buck’s waist, possessive. “But we can do better.”
Buck laughs, shaky. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you,” Eddie says, thrusting up again— not hard, just deep— and Buck actually whines, “are in my lap taking my cock like you were made for it, so maybe don’t throw stones right now.”
That pulls a gasp out of Buck so sharp it’s almost a sob.
Eddie feels it like a hand around his spine.
He surges up and kisses Buck, helpless, mouth open and hungry, catching that sound right off Buck’s tongue. Buck meets him for it instantly, desperate, kissing him back like he needs it to stay upright. His fingers curl into the meat of Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging in, hips still rolling down, still taking him, like his body won’t stop just because his brain left the building.
Eddie breaks just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, both of them panting into the little space between their mouths.
“Yeah?” Eddie whispers, eyes locked on Buck’s face, watching him fall apart in real time. “That what you’re doing? You taking it for me, honey?”
Buck shudders, a tiny wrecked sound catching in his throat as his eyes go heavy and glassy. He clenches down and grinds for it without thinking, breath snagging on a helpless, “Yeah—” before he can get the rest out.
Eddie stills. “Oh,” he says softly, wonder blooming under the wreckage in his voice. “Oh, you like that one.”
Buck’s eyes are wet and wide. “Again,” he pleads, shameless, voice tipping up high around it. “S-Say it again. Please.”
Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. It’s not just the way Buck says it, wrecked and already half-gone, hips still working down, body shaking with how hard he wants it. It’s what’s under it.
It’s trust.
Buck’s not asking like he’s not sure Eddie will give it to him. He’s asking like he already knows Eddie will. Like it’s a given. Like Eddie is going to take care of him, is going to give him what he needs because of course he is. Because Eddie always does.
There’s desperation in it, yeah— bright, sharp, greedy need— but there’s something soft braided through it too, something that lands low and deep in Eddie’s chest and knocks the air out of him.
Please, and I know you will.
Please, and I’m yours to ask.
Please, and I know I’m safe with you.
Eddie swears he feels it right behind his eyes, like pressure building. God, he thinks, half dizzy with it. He’d give Buck anything he asked for.
Anything.
“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs, testing, hand sliding up Buck’s spine, the other gripping his hip to help him move. He thrusts up again, deeper, and says it low and sure: “Honey.”
Buck folds, full-body. His thighs tighten around Eddie’s hips, his hands curl in Eddie’s chest like he needs to hold on to keep from floating off the bed, as his head drops forward with a broken noise torn from deep inside him.
“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers, awed. “Okay. Wow. Okay. Yeah, that does it for you.”
Buck lets out a helpless sound, somewhere between a moan and a laugh. “Shut up,” he begs, breathless. “Shut up and make me come.”
“God, you’re bossy,” Eddie mutters, and then, just because he can: “Aren’t you, honey?”
Buck’s answering groan punches straight through Eddie and lights him up.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, voice rough now, losing edges. “Okay. Okay, I got you.” His grip tightens, one hand sliding around to palm the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him close, keeping him right there. “But we’re not keeping that one either.”
Buck manages a ragged, disbelieving laugh. “Are you— are you workshopping pet names while you’re literally inside me?”
“Are you complaining?”
Buck makes a helpless noise that is technically laughter but has way too much need in it to count as anything other than desperation. “You’re the worst,” he gasps, rocking his hips down again.
Eddie grins, feral and wrecked. “Yeah? You want me to stop?”
Buck’s breath hitches. He swallows. “No,” he whispers.
“Didn’t think so.”
Eddie shifts his angle and thrusts up into him again, deeper now, harder, and Buck breaks apart in his hands.
His mouth drops open. His back arches. His eyes squeeze shut. Eddie feels it hit him all the way down.
“That’s it,” Eddie breathes, and this time his voice goes low and coaxing without him even meaning to, instinct taking over. “There you go. Take it. Just like that.” His own breath stutters. “Good boy.”
Buck lets out the prettiest sound Eddie’s ever heard in his life.
Holy mother of God.
“Okay,” Eddie says, and it’s barely a sound. “Yeah. No. That’s illegal. You can’t— you can’t make that noise when I say ‘good boy,’ I’m gonna black out.”
Buck makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh, might be a sob. “Can’t— can’t help it,” he manages, voice wrecked to hell.
“Then what are we gonna do?” Eddie murmurs, low, right against Buck’s mouth. He thrusts again, slow and so deep Buck bites down on a gasp. “Because it’s true. You’re my good boy, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Buck’s grin lights up his face, wrecked and bright all at once. “Yeah,” he says, voice already shaking. “Yeah, I’m— I’m your good boy, I am, I’ll be so good for you, I’ll do whatever you want, just— just don’t stop—”
It just pours straight out of him, eager and desperate, tumbling over itself. He’s nodding while he says it, frantic little nods like he has to make sure Eddie understands: yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be what you want, I want to be what you want.
And fuck, if thats not a sight to behold.
Eddie can see it— in the way Buck’s shoulders dropped for half a second, in the way his thighs loosened around Eddie’s hips, in the way his whole body just… offered. Opened. Reached for something. But not all the way. Not yet.
And Eddie knows Buck. He knows he's still holding back— just a sliver. Eddie can feel it like tension under his palms. Like Buck’s body is begging on instinct and his brain is a half-step behind, still asking: is it safe? Can I give you that? Are you going to take it from me and keep it? Can I let it go?
Yes, Eddie thinks, fierce and immediate. Yes. Give it to me. I’ll take it. I’ll keep it safe. I’ll hold it. I’ll do anything for you.
Buck’s forehead tips to Eddie’s. He’s shaking, breathing like he’s been running for miles. His voice comes out thin and scraped raw. “Eddie,” he whispers. “Please.”
Eddie holds his face in one shaking hand.
And then, quiet, certain, like truth settling into place: “Please what, baby?”
Buck breaks.
His whole body jumps. He clamps down around Eddie so tight Eddie actually swears out loud. His hands fly to Eddie’s shoulders like he’s anchoring himself. His hips stutter, then roll down hard, chasing it.
He makes a sound Eddie’s never heard from him— or from anyone. It’s not a moan, not really. It’s this raw, punched-open little cry, high and desperate, like something in him just split at the seam.
“Eddie,” Buck chokes. “Eddie, Eddie, oh my God—”
Eddie is a goner.
“That’s it,” he hums, hand tight at the back of Buck’s neck, holding him there, noses almost brushing. He’s thrusting now, really thrusting, driving up into him in deep, hungry, claiming snaps of his hips. “That’s it, baby. Ride me. Take it. You’re doing so good for me, baby, that’s it—”
Buck is sound and motion and heat and need in his lap. He’s meeting every thrust now, desperate, grinding down hard, gasping Eddie’s name on every exhale like he’s praying with it.
“Eddie— Eddie— fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna— I’m— baby, I’m gonna—”
One second Buck is riding him like he was made to, and the next Eddie’s rolling them, flipping Buck onto his back against the mattress and coming down over him in the same breath.
Buck goes with it like his body was waiting for the order. He hits the sheets on his back, legs already falling open, hands flying up to grab at Eddie— shoulders, biceps, anything he can hold. His pupils are blown wide, his curls are sweat-soaked and plastered to his forehead, his mouth is already open like he’s still in the middle of the breath he was taking.
Eddie doesn’t give him time to close it.
He pushes back in, buries himself to the hilt in one hard, desperate thrust.
Buck unravels. His back bows off the bed, his head kicks back, hands clawing at Eddie’s shoulders like he needs an anchor or he’ll fly apart.
“Oh my God,” Buck gasps, voice ragged. “Oh my God, Eddie, yes— yes, fuck, please—”
Eddie sets one hand under Buck’s knee and shoves his thigh up, open, wide— not rough, but sure, claiming. Buck lets out a noise that scrapes right up Eddie’s spine. Eddie braces his other hand beside Buck’s head, leans over him, and drives into him.
Hard.
“Fuck!” Buck shouts. “Fuck— Eddie, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”
“Yeah,” Eddie groans, voice breaking right there with him. “Yeah, baby, come on, that’s it. Come for me. Be good for me. That’s it, baby, I’ve got you.”
Buck falls apart in his hands.
He goes tense, shaking, mouth open, and then he’s coming, hard, whining through it, clinging to Eddie like he’ll float off the planet if he lets go.
Eddie doesn’t stand a chance. Heat slams up his spine and detonates. His vision whites out. He thrusts up into Buck once, twice, helpless, groaning, “Baby,” into Buck’s open mouth as he spills into him.
For a long beat, neither of them can do anything but breathe.
Buck is still beneath Eddie, forehead pressed to Eddie’s, eyes closed. Eddie’s hands are still on him— one at the back of his neck, thumb rubbing slow and possessive at the hinge of his jaw, the other gripping his hip like he’s not letting him go.
Buck swallows. Tries to catch his breath. Then, voice still rough and wrecked, he huffs a weak laugh.
“So,” he manages, rolling off of Eddie and onto his back beside him. “we’re keeping ‘baby.’”
Eddie exhales, slow and shaky. “Yeah,” he says, still breathless. He leans over, pressing a long, lingering kiss to Buck's temple. “That one’s not going anywhere.”
"Mhmm," Buck agrees, sleep creeping in. His eyelids grow heavy as he turns onto his side, curling into Eddie's warm, solid weight. "Me neither."