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Attending the speed dating had been Buck's idea—"Expand your horizons, Eds!"—but thirty-seven awkward handshakes later, Eddie felt his horizons shrink to the size of a bar napkin. Now, surrounded by empty beer bottles glinting like fallen stars on Buck's thrift-store rug, he wondered why escaping loneliness felt like drowning in cheap lager.
Eddie didn't know how things escalated from them sharing bottles of beer after their failed speed dating fiasco, to the two of them fucking in Buck's bed as if their lives depended on it. They were on their sides, Buck behind him, hips slamming forward with a desperation that punched the air from Eddie's lungs. Buck's forearm braced across Eddie's chest, pinning him while that monstrous cock drilled into territory Eddie hadn't even known existed an hour ago—his former virgin hole stretching, burning, yielding with every brutal thrust. Buck's breath came in ragged gasps against Eddie's neck, hot and damp, each exhale a whispered curse or Eddie's name, Eddie couldn't tell which, lost in the grind of skin and the creak of cheap springs.
The sheets smelled faintly of dust and Buck's cheap citrus cologne, a scent Eddie usually teased him about. Now it mixed with sweat and something sharper, primal, as Buck drove deeper, his teeth scraping Eddie's shoulder blade. Eddie clawed at the mattress, knuckles white, a choked sound escaping him—part pain, part shock, part something terrifyingly close to surrender. He hadn't planned this, hadn't even fantasized about it, yet his body arched back against Buck's, meeting each jarring impact with a tremble that felt less like resistance and more like… inevitability and pleasure.
But who was Eddie trying to fool here? He knew exactly how they ended up sprawled and desperate on Buck's bed. His mind flashed back to mere moments ago, when they were still perched on the edge of Buck's worn sofa, nursing their second bottle of beer:
"Honestly, Buck," Eddie slurred, gesturing vaguely toward the ceiling, "you've got the whole damn buffet table open to you—men, women, nonbinary folks—and here you are, striking out at speed dating harder than a Little League pitcher." He grinned, sharp and teasing. "Being bisexual means more options, right? And yet... crickets."
Buck snorted, setting his bottle down with a thud. "Yeah? Well, you're straight, Diaz. One lane. Simple. Less confusion, less hassle. Straightforward target." He shrugged, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Probably easier to hit."
Eddie stared at him for a beat, then a surprised chuckle burst from him—a rough, disbelieving sound. Life really *was* all about perspective. Buck's grin widened in response, and Eddie felt something shift, something dangerous and electric. He tried to disregard it by downing another swig of his beer.
"Alright, Diaz," Buck suddenly announced, slapping Eddie's thigh with playful force. "It's getting late and you're swaying worse than a palm tree in a hurricane. Crash here tonight. My bed's big enough."
It was a joke, Eddie knew, uttered with Buck's usual careless charm. Yet the words hung strangely thick in the air. Eddie blinked, the room tilting slightly. "Yeah?... Yeah, okay," he heard himself agree, the response surprising even him.
Silence descended, heavy and charged. Then Buck leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "So... seriously. When *was* the last time you got laid that you're desperate to sleep with me?"
Eddie felt heat flood his face instantly. "Jesus, Buck!" he sputtered, shoving Buck's shoulder. "Like you're any different! Not everyone is a sex animal like you!"
Buck roared with laughter, the sound loud and infectious. "Calm down, I'm just messing with you!" Still laughing, Buck lunged forward playfully, tackling Eddie sideways onto the lumpy sofa cushions. Eddie scrambled, ending up on his hands and knees on the rug, facing away.
Buck hovered behind him, chuckling breathlessly, poking Eddie's hip. "Look at you, old man! Can't even hold your beer or stay upright!"
But Eddie froze, hyper-aware. The playful sprawl had pressed Buck's undeniable, hard bulge firmly against the cleft of his ass through their jeans—a startling, intimate pressure that sent a jolt through him, leaving him awkward and utterly still.
The unexpected contact short-circuited Eddie's thoughts. That solid heat against him felt both invasive and terrifyingly familiar. It wasn't just about being tackled; it was the precise placement, the undeniable proof of Buck's lingering arousal. Eddie stayed frozen on all fours, the cheap rug scratching his palms, acutely aware of Buck's breathing close behind him—still chuckling, yes, but the rhythm had changed, grown shallower.
"Alright, grandpa," Buck's voice came again, softer now, the teasing edge dulled. A large hand landed gently on Eddie's hip. "Up you get." The touch, meant to steady, felt like a brand. Eddie pushed himself up shakily, going straight to Buck's bedroom to distance himself from his friend who was giving him conflicting feelings.
Eddie lay down on the bed and sighed. Frustrated at the current situation—the lingering confusion that he felt towards Buck—he closed his eyes to sleep when Buck entered the room, joining him at the bed. Buck was freshly showered, smelling faintly of that awful citrus body wash Eddie mocked relentlessly back at the station, but now mixed with steam and clean skin. The scent felt impossibly intimate in the dark. A damp towel hung low on Buck's hips, droplets sliding down his bare chest. He sank onto the mattress beside Eddie, the old springs groaning softly. Silence stretched, thick and charged, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator.
Buck shifted closer, the heat radiating off his damp skin palpable even through Eddie’s t-shirt. "Can’t sleep?" Buck murmured, his voice a low rumble in the darkness.
Eddie kept his eyes stubbornly shut, the memory of that hard press against his ass flashing vividly behind his eyelids. He felt the mattress dip deeper as Buck rolled partly towards him. A rough fingertip brushed Eddie's forearm, feather-light.
"Still pissed about tonight?"
Eddie’s eyes snapped open. Buck was studying him, moonlight catching the earnest confusion in his gaze—no smirk, no joke. The towel had ridden low, revealing the sharp V of his hips. Eddie’s breath hitched. It wasn’t lingering arousal he realized; it was a fundamental shift, a fault line cracking open beneath them. Buck’s hand slid slowly up Eddie’s arm, over his shoulder, coming to rest warm and heavy against the side of his neck. His thumb grazed Eddie’s jawline. "Eds?" Buck whispered, the question hanging raw and unfinished in the charged air between them. Eddie didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. The towel slipped lower.
"Buck..." Eddie choked out, scrambling backward against the pillows, putting inches between them. "Just... put something on, man." He gestured vaguely at the towel bunched precariously at Buck’s waist.
Buck didn’t move. He just stared, brow furrowing, the playful glint replaced by genuine concern. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" Buck asked softly, his hand dropping away. Eddie shook his head fiercely, eyes darting away from Buck’s bare skin. "Is it...?" Buck hesitated, searching Eddie’s face. "Is it bothering you? That I’m bi?"
Eddie shook his head harder this time, a sharp jerk of denial. "No! It’s not that. It will never be because of that," he insisted, voice tight.
Buck leaned closer again, his damp shoulder brushing Eddie’s arm. "Then why?" he pressed, relentless. "Why are you acting so damn awkward around me?"
Eddie stared at the peeling ceiling paint. "I don’t know," he breathed.
Buck’s frustration flared. "How can you not know?"
The probing felt like sandpaper on raw nerves. Eddie had nothing—no words, no defence, just a frantic, panicked impulse. He lunged forward, gripped Buck’s face, and crushed their mouths together to silence him. It was clumsy, desperate—more collision than kiss. Eddie jerked back instantly, chest heaving.
"Shit, Buck, I'm—" The apology died on his lips as Buck surged forward, one hand tangling in Eddie’s hair, the other gripping his hip, hauling him closer. This kiss wasn't hesitant; it was deep, demanding, a raw claiming that silenced Eddie’s thoughts and dissolved the lingering scent of cheap citrus into something primal and undeniable.
The groan that escaped Buck vibrated against Eddie’s mouth, a low rumble that seemed to come from his core. Eddie’s hands, which had been frozen in the air, finally landed on Buck’s bare chets, fingers digging into the damp muscle. The towel was forgotten, lost somewhere in the tangle of limbs and the desperate slide of skin on skin. Buck’s mouth moved with a fierce hunger – over Eddie’s lips, his jaw, down the straining tendon of his neck – each kiss a brand, each nip a silent command. Eddie arched into it, a gasp escaping him as Buck’s teeth scraped his collarbone, the sharp sting chasing away the lingering haze of beer and awkwardness. It wasn’t gentle; it was urgent, messy, a frantic grasping for something neither had dared name. Buck’s thigh slid between Eddie’s legs, pressing hard against the sudden, aching stiffness there, and Eddie moaned, burying his face in the damp crook of Buck’s neck, inhaling the scent of clean sweat and desperation.
Buck’s hand slid down Eddie’s chest, rough fingers catching on the hem of his worn t-shirt. He tugged it upward, breaking the kiss only long enough to yank the fabric over Eddie’s head and toss it aside. The cool air hit Eddie’s skin, raising goosebumps instantly chased away by the searing heat of Buck’s palm flattening against his stomach, sliding upward. Eddie’s own hands clawed at Buck’s back, tracing the ridges of his spine, then gripping his hips, urging him closer still. Their frantic movements rocked the cheap bedframe, the rhythmic squeak cutting through the heavy silence. Buck’s mouth returned to Eddie’s, tongue sliding deep, tasting, claiming. Eddie met him thrust for thrust, their rhythm unspoken yet perfectly synchronized – a raw, physical conversation replacing all the words they couldn’t find. Buck’s groan echoed Eddie’s own ragged breathing, a shared language of need vibrating between them in the moonlit room. The furnace in Eddie’s gut blazed hotter, fueled by Buck’s touch, his taste, the sheer impossibility of *this* unfolding right now.
"Christ, Eds," Buck rasped, breath hot against the damp spot he’d created, "you’re driving me out of my goddamn mind."
Teeth scraped the sensitive skin beneath Eddie’s ear, sending a jolt straight down his spine. The rough scrape of Buck’s stubble burned alongside the bite. Eddie gasped, arching instinctively into the sensation, hands tightening on Buck’s shoulders. Buck pressed closer, hips grinding insistently against Eddie’s thigh, his own erection a hard, undeniable line trapped in his briefs. The friction, the sheer intensity of it, felt overwhelming. Eddie shoved against Buck’s chest, pushing him back a few inches, creating precious, trembling space. "Buck... stop," Eddie choked out, voice ragged. He stared at Buck’s swollen lips, the dark hunger in his eyes. "This... this is *wrong*. We shouldn’t—" The rest dissolved into a shaky breath.
Buck didn’t retreat further. He stayed braced above Eddie, breathing hard, moonlight catching the confusion warring with desire on his face. A slow, gentle smile softened Buck’s expression, surprising in its tenderness amidst the wreckage of the sheets and Eddie’s panic. "Wrong?" Buck murmured, his thumb brushing Eddie’s cheekbone. "Why? Because we’re friends? We’re both adults, Eddie. Both single." His gaze held Eddie’s, unwavering, offering a simple, undeniable fact. "Nobody’s cheating. Nobody’s hurting anyone else." The logic, stripped bare, felt like a lifeline thrown into a stormy sea. Eddie clung to it, the frantic drumming of his heart slowing fractionally.
Eddie shook his head, the gesture sharp, defensive. "That’s not— Buck, I’m *not* gay. Or bi." The declaration felt brittle, hollow, echoing in the charged space between them. It was the armor he’d worn for years, suddenly feeling flimsy and ill-fitting. Buck’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned in again, but slowly this time, deliberately, his hand sliding to cup the back of Eddie’s neck. He pulled Eddie close until their foreheads almost touched.
Buck’s voice dropped low, intimate, cutting through Eddie’s denial. "Okay," Buck breathed, the word warm against Eddie’s lips. "So tell me... what *did* you feel tonight? During those speed dates?"
Eddie froze. Silence crashed down, thick and suffocating. The truth roared in his ears: he hadn’t focused on a single woman’s face, hadn’t heard their answers. He’d been watching *Buck*. Watching the easy smiles he gave the women, the casual nods to the men, cataloging every interaction, every flicker of potential interest directed Buck’s way. Jealousy? Possessiveness? He recoiled from the words, locking them deep inside. He wouldn’t admit it. Couldn’t. His jaw clenched tight.
Buck watched the struggle play out on Eddie’s face, the flicker of panic, the stubborn refusal. He didn’t push. Instead, his thumb stroked the taut muscle along Eddie’s jaw. "Know why I couldn’t find a match tonight?" Buck’s voice was impossibly soft, almost a whisper. "Because every time someone sat down... I was looking for *you*."
Eddie’s breath hitched audibly. The confession struck him with the force of a physical blow, shattering his defenses. Heat flooded his face, a fierce blush staining his cheeks and spreading down his neck – undeniable proof. Buck saw it, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. "Yeah," Buck murmured, pulling Eddie impossibly closer, their bodies aligning once more, the electric current snapping back to life between them. "Exactly like that."
Eddie was still hesitant, his voice thick with confusion. "But Buck... I feel like... like I'm still not gay." The words felt clumsy, inadequate armor against the reality of Buck's skin against his own.
Buck knew the root of that denial, tangled deep in Eddie's El Paso childhood, the church pews and his father's stern expectations. He didn't say it aloud, knowing labels were landmines right now. Instead, he gently cupped Eddie’s face, forcing his gaze upwards. "Eds," Buck breathed, his thumb tracing the line of Eddie’s jaw, "you don't need to be *gay* to like *me*."
Slowly, deliberately, Buck took Eddie’s trembling hand and guided it downwards, pressing Eddie’s palm firmly against the hard, clothed bulge straining against Buck’s briefs. The heat, the solidity beneath the thin cotton, made Eddie gasp. "Does anyone else," Buck murmured, his voice rough with need, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s, "make you feel this desperate? This... hungry?"
Eddie stared at his own hand pressed against Buck, the frantic pulse hammering in his wrist echoing the hardness beneath his palm. "No," he whispered, the word torn from him, raw and honest. "Just you. It’s... it’s only ever been you."
The admission hung heavy and fragile between them. Eddie’s hand remained on Buck, not pulling away, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric, feeling the powerful throb beneath. Buck’s gaze softened, a tenderness mingling with the fierce desire. He leaned in slowly, his forehead pressing against Eddie’s. The frantic urgency from earlier was replaced by a profound, aching intimacy. Eddie could feel Buck’s breath, warm and steady, ghosting over his lips. This wasn’t drunken grappling or panicked collision anymore; it was a deliberate, terrifyingly vulnerable closeness, stripping away every defense Eddie had left.
Buck shifted, his lips brushing Eddie’s temple. "Then let it be just us," he breathed, the words a low rumble against Eddie’s skin. His hand slid from Eddie’s jaw, down his neck, tracing the line of his collarbone before settling possessively on his bare hip. He urged Eddie closer, aligning their bodies fully, chest to chest, hip to hip. Eddie’s hand, still resting on Buck’s covered hardness, moved instinctively with the shift. "Forget the labels," Buck murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath Eddie’s ear. "Forget your anything else. Forget everything except this." His hips rolled forward, pressing his erection insistently against Eddie’s palm and thigh simultaneously, a slow, deliberate grind that ignited every nerve ending Eddie possessed. "Just feel it, Eddie."
Eddie’s breath hitched, a ragged sound escaping him as Buck’s movement sparked a fresh wave of heat low in his belly. He met Buck’s gaze, drowning in the raw certainty he saw there – a certainty that bypassed logic and societal scripts. His fingers tightened involuntarily on Buck, feeling the powerful muscle beneath the briefs tense and release with each subtle shift. The hesitation fractured, not vanishing, but submerged beneath the overwhelming physical truth of Buck’s body against his, the undeniable pull between them. Eddie leaned forward, closing the small distance, his lips finding Buck’s in a kiss that was no longer desperate silencing, but a tentative, searching acceptance. It was clumsy, imperfect, charged with the terrifying possibility of *this*, whatever *this* was. Buck met him instantly, deepening the kiss with a low groan, his hand sliding from Eddie’s hip to cradle the back of his head, holding him steady as if anchoring him to this moment, to this undeniable connection that defied simple definitions.
Buck’s fingers, rough and surprisingly deft, found the worn leather of Eddie’s belt. He fumbled with the buckle for a heartbeat, the rasp of metal loud in the charged silence, before it gave way. Then came the slide of the zipper, the harsh whisper of denim parting, and finally, the elastic waistband of Eddie’s boxers tugged down.
Cool air washed over Eddie’s exposed skin, making him gasp. He glanced down, then up at Buck, who remained frustratingly clothed in just his briefs. "Hey," Eddie protested, his voice thick, gesturing vaguely at Buck’s hips. "This is... unfair. You're still dressed."
Buck chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated against Eddie’s chest where he leaned. "Patience, Diaz," Buck murmured, his eyes dark with promise. "I'll show you mine... later." Before Eddie could argue, Buck planted a firm hand on his chest and pushed him flat onto his back against the rumpled sheets. Eddie landed with a soft 'oof', momentarily stunned. Buck dipped his head, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path through the coarse hair covering Eddie’s sternum. His hand slid upwards, calloused fingers finding a nipple, circling it deliberately before pinching lightly. Eddie arched off the bed with a choked cry.
"Buck, *please*," Eddie gasped, his own hand reaching desperately for the straining hardness between his own legs, aching for attention. "Touch me." His cock stood rigid against his stomach, flushed and leaking onto his skin.
Buck lifted his head, catching Eddie’s wandering hand and pinning it gently but firmly back to the mattress beside his hip. "Be patient," Buck repeated, his voice rough but holding an edge of command Eddie had never heard directed at him. "I want to taste you everywhere first." His mouth returned to Eddie’s chest, lower this time, his tongue swirling around a nipple before sucking it firmly into the wet heat of his mouth. Eddie cried out, hips bucking futilely against Buck’s weight pinning his thighs. The denial was torture, sharpening every sensation – the scrape of stubble, the wet slide of Buck’s tongue, the teasing pinch of fingers on his other nipple, the unbearable heat radiating from Buck’s almost naked body pressed against his own naked hip. Every touch felt amplified, deliberate, designed to unravel him completely before granting any relief.
Buck’s mouth traced a relentless path downward, kissing and nipping across the taut plains of Eddie’s stomach. His tongue dipped into the shallow valley of Eddie’s
navel, then traced the defined ridges of his abs, licking each dip and contour with agonizing slowness, savoring the salt-slick skin and the tremor that ran through Eddie’s entire body with each pass. Finally, inevitably, Buck’s hot breath ghosted over the base of Eddie’s aching cock. Eddie’s breath hitched, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat as Buck’s lips brushed the flushed, swollen head, smearing the bead of precome leaking there. Buck lingered for a heartbeat, inhaling deeply before lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s wide, desperate eyes. "Tell me something, Diaz," Buck murmured, his thumb tracing the thick vein pulsing along the underside. "Has *any* guy ever done this for you before? Given you head? Or even just… gotten you off?" His voice was low, intense, demanding the truth Eddie had been hiding behind denial.
Eddie bit down hard on his lower lip, the sharp sting grounding him momentarily. His gaze flickered away from Buck’s piercing stare, landing on the peeling ceiling paint. Shame warred with the overwhelming need coiling in his gut. "Just… once," he admitted, the words thick and reluctant, dragged out of him. "Back… back in college. My roommate and I. After finals. Too drunk to find girls." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Buck’s eyes again. "We just… traded handjobs. In the dark. Didn’t talk about it after." The confession felt like shedding armor, leaving him terrifyingly exposed.
Buck didn’t flinch. He didn’t mock. A slow, almost approving smile touched his lips. "Okay," Buck breathed, his hand finally closing around Eddie’s cock – thick, flushed, and straining – wrapping his fingers firmly around the heated velvet steel. Eddie gasped, arching off the bed, a choked cry escaping him as Buck began a slow, deliberate stroke, his thumb swirling over the slick head with each upward pull. "Okay," Buck repeated, leaning forward, his breath hot against Eddie’s inner thigh. "Thank you for telling me." The gratitude was sincere, an acknowledgment of the vulnerability offered.
Then Buck dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty-sweet fluid leaking steadily from Eddie’s tip. "Now," Buck murmured, the vibration traveling straight up Eddie’s spine, "let me show you how it’s supposed to feel." His mouth opened, hot and wet, and he took Eddie in deep.
Eddie had received blowjobs from women before – tentative, practiced, sometimes overly enthusiastic – but they had *nothing* on Buck. This wasn’t technique; it was raw, consuming hunger. Buck swallowed him whole, throat opening around him with a guttural groan that Eddie felt in his bones. The suction was relentless, perfect, his tongue swirling maddeningly under the head on each withdrawal, lips sealed tight, creating a pulsing vacuum that dragged sensation from Eddie’s toes to the crown of his skull. Buck’s hand worked the base in tandem, twisting slightly, fingers digging into the sensitive root. The eye contact was devastating – Buck stared up at him, pupils blown wide with dark intensity, watching every flinch, every gasp, as if memorizing the wreckage he caused. Eddie’s hips jerked uncontrollably off the mattress, but Buck pinned his thighs down effortlessly with his forearms, trapping him in the exquisite torment. It was messy, primal, and utterly perfect – a claiming that obliterated every clumsy college encounter and every perfunctory girlfriend’s attempt. Buck didn’t just suck him; he devoured him, consumed him, leaving Eddie trembling and utterly lost.
Eddie threw his head back with a strangled cry, fingers twisting violently in the cheap sheets. Stars exploded behind his eyelids. The pleasure was volcanic, building too fast, too fiercely. "Buck— I’m gonna—" he gasped, voice shredded, the warning choked off by another deep, throaty swallow that sent sparks shooting down his legs. Buck didn’t pull back, didn’t slow. His response was a low, encouraging hum, vibrating around Eddie’s cock, his hand tightening its grip, urging him on. Surrender crashed over Eddie – a tidal wave of heat and pressure coiling impossibly tight. He arched off the bed, spine bowing, every muscle locking rigid as the climax tore through him. It wasn't a gentle release; it was an eruption, blinding and violent, pumping thick pulses directly into Buck’s greedy, accepting throat. Buck took it all, swallowing convulsively, his throat working against Eddie’s spasming flesh, his eyes locked on Eddie’s face with fierce, unwavering possession.
Slowly, gently, Buck released him, sliding off with a slick, obscene pop. He rested his forehead against Eddie’s trembling thigh for a moment, catching his breath, lips slick and swollen. Then he lifted his gaze, a slow, utterly smug grin spreading across his face. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, never breaking eye contact. "See?" Buck rasped, his voice wrecked but triumphant. "Told you." He shifted upwards, crawling over Eddie’s spent body, his own erection – still trapped obscenely in damp briefs – pressing insistently against Eddie’s hip. He leaned down, his lips brushing Eddie’s ear. "We are far from done."
Before Eddie could even gasp a reply, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and flipped him onto his stomach with startling force. The cheap mattress springs groaned in protest. Eddie’s face pressed into the pillow, still smelling faintly of dust and citrus. He felt Buck’s weight settle heavily behind him, knees bracketing his hips. A sharp curse tore from Buck’s throat. "Christ, Eddie," Buck breathed, his voice thick with awe and frustration. "Your ass... fuck. I've wanted this for *months*. Wanted to get my hands on it, my mouth... wanted to bend you over every damn surface at the station – the kitchen counter, the engine bay, the damn locker room bench – eat you out until you screamed, then fuck you raw." His hands gripped Eddie’s hips, lifting, angling his ass high into the air. Eddie froze, bewildered, his mind still fogged with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Then he felt it – the heavy, thick heat of Buck’s cock, bare now and slick with spit, pressing firmly between the cleft of his asscheeks. "Couldn’t hold back anymore," Buck growled, desperation cracking his voice. "Promise I won’t go in... not yet. Just... need this. Need to blow off steam." Eddie felt Buck’s hand move, heard a thick, wet sound as Buck spat copiously into his own palm, then the slick slide as he coated his cock.
Without warning, Buck pressed forward. The thick, slick head of his cock slid firmly between Eddie’s hairy cheeks, rubbing hard against the tight, untouched furl of Eddie’s hole. Eddie gasped, then moaned, the sound muffled by the pillow – a strange mix of startled pleasure and deep, unexpected relief. The friction was intense, deliciously rough against his sensitive skin, the thick organ rubbing insistently against his virgin entrance. It felt shockingly good, sending sparks up his spine, though Eddie flinched instinctively every time the broad, slick cockhead kissed the tiny, resistant opening, a primal fear jolting through him at the sheer impossibility of it stretching to accommodate Buck’s size. Buck groaned, low and guttural, his hips grinding forward in short, urgent thrusts, the slide made slicker by his spit coating Eddie’s crack. "Yeah... fuck, Eddie... just like this," Buck panted, his grip tightening on Eddie’s hips, holding him open and angled perfectly. The rhythmic pressure, the hot drag of Buck’s cockhead against his tightest ring of muscle, was maddening – a promise and a threat rolled into one, stoking a fresh, confusing heat deep inside Eddie despite his recent release.
Buck leaned forward, his sweat-damp chest pressing against Eddie’s back. He buried his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, biting down gently on the tendon. "Feel that?" Buck murmured against his skin, his breath hot, punctuating each word with a deliberate grind of his hips. "Feel how much I want you? How fucking *bad*?" His hand slid down Eddie’s flank, rough fingers tracing the curve of his ass before dipping lower, finding Eddie’s balls, heavy and loose after his climax, and then the base of his cock, already beginning to thicken again despite the overwhelming sensations. Buck’s thumb rubbed slow, filthy circles over the sensitive spot just behind Eddie’s balls, right where his cock met his perineum, adding a new layer of dizzying sensation to the relentless pressure against his hole. Eddie whimpered, pushing back against Buck’s thrusting hips almost involuntarily, seeking more of that impossible, terrifying friction.
The scent of sweat, spit, and Buck’s desperate arousal filled the small room, thick and primal. Buck’s groan vibrated against Eddie’s spine. "God, you’re so fucking good at making me crazy Eds... gonna make you feel so much more... just gotta... gotta get *there*..." His thrusts grew harder, faster, the slick slide between Eddie’s cheeks becoming almost frantic.
Eddie clenched his eyes shut, lost in the overwhelming sensations – the rough handling, the possessive words, the thick cock rubbing his sensitive hole again and again, the promise of something deeper, wilder, hanging thick in the air between Buck’s ragged breaths.
Buck bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic tang sharp on his tongue. He reached down with his free hand, grabbing his own cock firmly, fisting it in a tight grip slick with spit and sweat. His hips pistoned forward one last, desperate time, grinding the swollen head hard against Eddie’s virgin hole. With a guttural cry torn from deep in his chest, Buck came – thick, hot ropes of come splattering across Eddie’s supple asscheeks and the small of his back, some even hitting the tight, untouched furl of Eddie’s hole with startling heat. Buck shuddered violently, his forehead pressed hard between Eddie’s shoulder blades, hips still jerking as he emptied himself onto Eddie’s skin.
The sudden heat, the wetness spreading over his sensitive skin, made Eddie gasp. Buck didn’t waste a second. Panting raggedly, he immediately leaned down, his tongue darting out hungrily, licking a hot, wet stripe right through the mess he’d made, lapping at Eddie’s hole with fierce, possessive hunger. Eddie could only moan, a low, helpless sound muffled by the pillow, as Buck ravaged him with his tongue – probing, swirling, pressing insistently against his tight entrance. Buck’s mouth was hot and wet and relentless, sucking at the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking and pressing with desperate urgency. Slowly, under the insistent wet heat, Eddie’s hole gave way, relaxing just enough for Buck’s probing tongue to breach the tight ring, dipping shallowly inside. Eddie arched sharply, a choked cry escaping him, surrendering completely as Buck did his thing, claiming him with lips and tongue in a way that felt terrifyingly intimate and utterly inevitable.
Buck ate him with fierce dedication for long minutes, stopping only when Eddie was trembling uncontrollably and his own cock, impossibly, was rock-hard again against Eddie's thigh. Eddie glanced back over his shoulder, his breath catching as his eyes widened seeing Buck's cock – thick, flushed, and straining upward, already slick with fresh precome. Buck was *hung*. The ridiculous station nickname "Firehose," tossed around casually after locker room glimpses Eddie had always dismissed as exaggeration, suddenly made horrifying, visceral sense. Eddie understood now, with cold clarity, why Buck had been so careful hiding *that* beast because Eddie, overwhelmed and terrified, might have backed out completely. Buck shifted slightly, his gaze locking with Eddie's wide, uncertain eyes as he reached out blindly towards the nightstand drawers, his fingers scrabbling for purchase.
When their eyes met across the messy expanse of Buck's back, Buck gave him a small, reassuring smile as his hand emerged clutching a familiar, half-used bottle of lube. "Hey," Buck murmured softly, his voice rough with arousal but gentle, holding the bottle up slightly. "Don't be scared, Eds. We'll go slow. Real slow." He popped the cap open with his thumb. "Gently, okay? Promise."
Eddie huffed in sharp annoyance, cheeks burning – being treated like a fragile, breakable doll. Before he could voice the protest twisting in his throat, Buck squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers, and the sudden, shocking coldness of the slick liquid hitting his heated skin made Eddie gasp sharply, his body jerking instinctively. He glared backward, met only with Buck's earnest, slightly sheepish gaze.
"Sorry, sorry," Buck murmured instantly, leaning down to press a soft, apologetic kiss onto Eddie’s sticky asscheek right where the lube dripped.
Eddie pressed his forehead harder into the pillow, the scent of dust and Buck’s citrus soap sharpening his frustration. Fragile? He wasn't some damn porcelain vase. He’d survived war zones, raised a kid alone, wrestled burning hoses—he could handle Buck’s oversized ego and his oversized—
Buck’s slick fingers brushed against him then, tentative, circling the rim Eddie hadn’t even known existed hours ago. The touch was light, exploratory, but Eddie tensed instinctively, every nerve ending screaming a warning. His body remembered the the burning ache from Buck’s frantic grinding, the terrifying promise held in that thick length currently nudging the back of his thigh. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for intrusion.
But Buck didn’t push. Instead, his thumb slid lower, pressing firm, deliberate circles into the tense muscle just behind Eddie’s balls—the same spot his thumb had teased earlier. A low groan escaped Eddie, unbidden, the sharp pressure melting into a deep, unexpected thrum of relief that radiated outwards, loosening the tight coil of panic in his gut.
Buck hummed softly in approval, his other hand smoothing up Eddie’s spine in a slow, soothing stroke. "Just relaxin' you, Eds," Buck murmured, his voice thick but soothing, layered over the slick sounds of his fingers working the lube. "Gotta get you ready for me. Properly." His thumb kept circling, pressing deeper, unlocking tension Eddie hadn’t realized he carried, while his slicked fingers continued their maddeningly gentle orbit, teasing the tight furl without attempting entry, warming the cold lube against Eddie’s skin until it felt almost natural.
Eddie let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The deliberate, patient touch was disarming—so unlike Buck’s usual impulsive energy. It wasn’t fragile; it was *careful*. Necessary. And terrifyingly effective. The frantic edge of his fear dulled, replaced by a heavy, liquid heat pooling low in his belly, a response as confusing as it was undeniable. He felt himself sinking deeper into the mattress, his muscles yielding fractionally under Buck’s ministrations. When Buck’s probing fingertip finally, cautiously, breached the loosened ring—just the very tip, slick and warm—Eddie gasped, but it wasn’t pain. It was a startling, full-bodied jolt of sensation, electric and unfamiliar, shooting up his spine and coiling tight in his groin. His hips jerked forward of their own accord, seeking friction against the rumpled sheets.
Buck stilled instantly, his breath hot on Eddie’s shoulder blade. "Okay?" Buck whispered, the single word loaded with tension. Eddie could only nod fiercely against the pillow, a choked sound escaping him—part surprise, part surrender, part desperate, burgeoning need.
Eddie gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound punched from his lungs as Buck’s slick finger slid deeper—past the initial tight ring, invading virgin territory with shocking intimacy. He moaned, low and ragged, the sensation a confusing blend of burning stretch and electric pleasure that arced straight to his already thickening cock. Lost in the overwhelming haze, the foreign fullness consuming his awareness, Eddie barely registered Buck’s murmured words, thick with arousal and strained control: "Gotta stretch you more, Eds... gonna add another."
Eddie blinked, dazed, trapped in the zone where sensation obliterated comprehension. *Another?* The concept seemed ludicrous, impossible—how could there possibly be room? Yet, before protest could form, Buck’s thumb pressed firmly against his perineum again, a brilliant counterpoint, as the relentless finger crooked slightly, pressing upwards against a spot that made Eddie cry out, his back arching violently off the mattress. Buck seized the moment, easing a second slick fingertip alongside the first. Eddie bit his lower lip hard, tasting copper, as the burning stretch intensified profoundly, a tearing, relentless pressure that forced a ragged whimper from his throat even as his hips pushed back instinctively, demanding *more* of the unbearable, necessary friction.
"Christ, you’re tight," Buck gritted out, his own breathing harsh and uneven against Eddie’s skin. He worked his now three fingers slowly, agonizingly—scissoring them with deliberate, shallow thrusts, each tiny movement sending fresh waves of searing pressure radiating through Eddie’s core.
Eddie clenched his fists in the sheets, knuckles bone-white, riding the knife-edge between pain and a pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. Buck’s free hand slid possessively around Eddie’s hip, fingers wrapping around Eddie’s cock, now fully hard and weeping against his stomach. The dual assault—the relentless stretch inside and the firm, rhythmic strokes outside—shattered Eddie’s coherence. He could only gasp Buck’s name, a broken plea lost in the slick sounds and Buck’s low, encouraging growls.
"That’s it... take it... fuck, Eddie, you feel incredible..." Buck leaned down, pressing feverish kisses along Eddie’s spine. "Almost... almost ready for me," he promised, his voice thick with need.
Buck withdrew his fingers slowly, the sudden emptiness feeling vast and strangely cold. Eddie shuddered violently, a groan escaping him at the loss. Before he could process it, Buck’s weight shifted behind him, knees nudging his thighs wider. Eddie felt it then—the broad, slick head of Buck’s cock, impossibly large and blazing hot, pressing firmly against the loosened, aching entrance Buck’s fingers had just vacated. The blunt pressure was immense, terrifying, promising annihilation. Eddie froze, breath catching in his throat. Buck’s hands gripped Eddie’s hips, anchoring him. "Breathe, Eds," Buck commanded softly, his own voice strained. "Just breathe... and push back against me."
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, panic clawing up his throat. "No, no, no," he muttered frantically, shaking his head against the pillow. "Buck, stop—just... just the tip, okay? Please? Just the tip for now." His voice cracked. "I'll die if you... if you shove that whole fucking thing in me."
Buck chuckled, a low, strained sound against Eddie’s sweat-slicked shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, almost soothing. "Shh, alright then Eds. Just the tip. Promise," Buck murmured, his lips brushing Eddie’s skin. "Breathe, Eddie. Deep breaths. And push back when I push... ease into it baby."
Eddie obeyed, sucking in air, trembling as he pressed his hips back tentatively. The slick crown pressed harder, parting him with excruciating slowness. It burned like hellfire, stretching him beyond anything he’d imagined. His hole clenched fiercely, reflexively resisting the invasion, trying desperately to keep Buck out.
Buck didn't force it. He held still, letting Eddie adjust to the searing pressure. Then, with practiced patience, he began to circle the broad head of his cock against Eddie’s trembling entrance—small, deliberate revolutions that massaged the clenching ring. He applied steady pressure with each rotation, coaxing, teasing, working the sensitive skin slick with lube and sweat. Eddie whimpered, the maddening friction both agony and bizarre relief. Slowly, inevitably, the tight ring yielded under Buck’s insistent, circular persuasion. It surrendered with a sudden, wet give. Buck pushed forward steadily, breaching the final resistance.
Eddie’s world narrowed to a single searing point—the impossible stretch burning white-hot as Buck breached him. He choked on a ragged gasp, fingers clawing the sheets, every muscle locked in agonized resistance. "No, no, *no*," Eddie babbled, panic sharpening his voice as he felt Buck’s thickness pushing deeper. "Buck—please stop! You're fucking serious that's just the tip? It's fucking too much..." His voice cracked, raw with terror. "I’ll fucking die if you... if you shove that whole damn thing—"
Eddie’s jaw went slack, a choked gasp escaping him as Buck’s cockhead slid fully past the tight ring.The stretch was monumental, a white-hot brand searing him open from the inside out. He felt impossibly full already—invaded, conquered, the thick head penetrating deeper than any finger, devirginizing him with brutal finality. Nothing "straight" was happening right now, yet Eddie felt a sense of ease mixed with the haze of arousal at that stark realization. He moaned, low and ragged, as Buck—with terrifyingly perfect control—pulled the tip almost completely out before pushing it back in shallowly, the slick drag sparking fresh agony and forbidden pleasure.
"Okay, Eds," Buck murmured, his voice thick but suddenly pragmatic against Eddie’s ear, "this angle’s murdering your knees. We switch." Before Eddie could protest, Buck pulled out entirely, the sudden emptiness shocking, and gently guided Eddie down onto his side. Buck mirrored the position behind him, chest pressed to Eddie’s back, knees tucked beneath Eddie’s thighs. One strong arm slid beneath Eddie’s neck, the other wrapping possessively around his waist as Buck aligned himself once more and pressed inward from this new, intimate angle—spooning him like lovers.
The repositioning changed everything. Spooned tightly against Buck’s chest, Eddie felt surrounded, anchored, the relentless pressure now a deep, grinding fullness rather than a tearing intrusion. Buck’s arm beneath his neck cradled him, his hand resting warm and heavy on Eddie’s pectoral muscle, thumb brushing a nipple. Buck’s other arm tightened around Eddie’s waist, fingers splaying wide across his stomach, pulling him flush against Buck’s hips. Buck began to move—slow, deep rolls of his pelvis rather than frantic thrusts—driving himself deeper with each controlled undulation.
Eddie pushed his hips back, seeking more of that impossible fullness, trying to impale himself deeper on Buck’s cock. Buck’s grip on his waist tightened instantly, a low growl vibrating against Eddie’s shoulder blade.
"Easy, Eds," Buck warned, his voice strained with restraint. "Push back like that and I can't control how deep I go."
Eddie craned his neck, looking back over his shoulder at Buck. In the dim moonlight, Buck’s eyes were dark, intense pools. "Do it," Eddie breathed, reckless and aching. "Stuff more of that cock in me. Just… stop if I tell you."
A slow, predatory grin spread across Buck’s face. He leaned forward, catching Eddie’s mouth in a fierce, claiming kiss as he surged his hips forward, burying himself impossibly deeper. Eddie pushed back against him, meeting the invasion, a choked moan swallowed by Buck’s lips. A few more thrusts—deeper, harder—and Buck was fully sheathed, that immense cock pistoning in and out of Eddie’s ravaged hole with slick, rhythmic certainty.
The brutal rhythm sent Eddie crashing back into the present—the creak of cheap springs, the sharp scent of sweat and sex, the overwhelming sensation of being split open and filled beyond comprehension. He gasped as Buck pulled out almost entirely again, the sudden emptiness jarring, then cried out when Buck hooked a strong arm under Eddie’s knee and flipped him onto his back in one smooth, powerful motion. Missionary.
Eddie instantly covered his face with his hands, the intimacy of the position, the raw vulnerability of being spread open beneath Buck’s heavy gaze, flooding him with scalding embarrassment. "Don't," Buck commanded softly but firmly, leaning down, his weight pinning Eddie’s hips as he drove back into him with a single, deep stroke that punched the air from Eddie’s lungs. "Don’t hide from me," Buck murmured, his lips brushing Eddie’s knuckles where they shielded his eyes. "Look at me, Eds." He punctuated the request with another deliberate thrust, deeper this time, hitting something inside Eddie that sparked a startled cry. "I’m right here with you."
Eddie nodded, trembling fingers slowly uncovering his face. There he saw Buck, suspended above him, moonlight catching the sweat on his brow and the fierce tenderness in his eyes. Buck looked so beautifully, devastatingly handsome, his gaze locked on Eddie’s as he bent slowly, kissing the sensitive skin of Eddie’s instep with startling reverence. Then Buck lifted Eddie’s legs effortlessly, draping them over his broad shoulders, the new angle tilting Eddie’s hips sharply upward. Eddie gasped, then moaned deeply as Buck sank down into him, the shift driving his cock impossibly deeper, grinding against that electric spot with relentless precision.
"Am—am I gay now?" Eddie blurted out, the words raw and shaky, his eyes wide with bewildered panic locked on Buck’s face.
Buck hesitated, his rhythm faltering for just a heartbeat, his expression softening. "Eddie," he breathed, voice thick with emotion, "you’re whatever you decide you are. Nothing more, nothing less."
Eddie chuckled then, a rough, disbelieving sound that dissolved into another groan as Buck began moving again, the deep, punishing strokes stealing his breath. "Yeah? Well," Eddie managed between gasps, gripping Buck’s forearms, "I think... I think I’m maybe bi? Or... or whatever the hell this is. But straight?" He met Buck’s intense gaze head-on, a defiant, breathless smirk touching his lips. "Definitely not fucking straight, Buck. Not when I’m enjoying getting fucked this much by my boyfriend." The word hung heavy and deliberate in the charged air.
Buck froze instantly, a choked sound escaping him. His hips stuttered, his cock throbbing deep inside Eddie as if the word alone had triggered his climax prematurely. He pulled back slightly, staring down at Eddie, eyes wide with disbelief and a desperate hope that looked almost painful. "Say that again," Buck rasped, his voice trembling. "Please. Did you just—? Eddie, tell me I heard you right." He sounded terrified, terrified that he’d imagined it, that the desperate longing twisting his gut had conjured the word *boyfriend*.
Eddie rolled his eyes, a fond exasperation cutting through the haze of pleasure. "Jesus, Buck," he sighed, reaching up to cup Buck’s stunned face. "I don’t *do* one-night stands. Especially not with my best friend." He pulled Buck down closer, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper against Buck’s lips. "You started this. You fucked me senseless. Now you take responsibility for it."
Buck’s eyes glistened with sudden tears as he kissed Eddie—a desperate, grateful press of lips that tasted like salt and sweat. His hips jerked forward instinctively, losing their rhythm entirely, frantic and uncontrolled as the enormity of Eddie’s words slammed into him. Eddie hooked his legs tighter around Buck’s waist, fingers digging into Buck’s sweat-slicked back, pulling him impossibly closer until their bodies seemed to merge into one straining, shuddering mass. Buck gasped Eddie’s name like a prayer, his thrusts turning shallow and ragged. With a choked sob, Buck came first, filling Eddie to the brim, hot pulses deep inside that triggered a visceral clench around his cock. The sensation of being filled, stretched impossibly tight by Buck’s release, ignited Eddie’s own orgasm—a violent, blinding wave that tore through him, leaving him arching off the mattress with a raw cry.
Buck collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelmed tears. Eddie held him, stroking the damp hair plastered to Buck’s temples, letting the tremors subside. The creak of the springs faded, replaced by the ragged symphony of their breathing. Buck lifted his head slowly, eyes red-rimmed but blazing with a fierce, disbelieving joy. "Boyfriend," he repeated, testing the word, his thumb tracing the curve of Eddie’s jaw. "Say it again."
Eddie grinned, exhausted and triumphant. "Maybe later," he murmured, shifting beneath Buck’s weight, wincing slightly as Buck’s softening cock slipped free. He moaned, feeling the sudden, slick gush of warm creampie spill from his gaping hole onto the rumpled sheets beneath him. The sensation was startlingly intimate—a visceral reminder of the violation and surrender that had just rewritten his entire world. He pressed his thighs together instinctively, trapping the sticky warmth, a flush spreading across his chest not just from exertion, but from the profound vulnerability of feeling Buck’s essence leak out of him.
Buck asked if he was okay, his voice thick with lingering emotion. Eddie nodded, pressing his forehead against Buck’s shoulder. "Yeah," he breathed, "just... sticky."
Buck chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Eddie’s skin. "We need to clean ourselves up," Buck murmured, his arm tightening protectively around Eddie’s waist.
Eddie insisted on a shower immediately, grimacing at the cooling mess between his thighs. Buck nodded, pulling away reluctantly and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, offering Eddie a hand. When Eddie stubbornly tried to rise on his own, his legs wobbled alarmingly—a combination of exhaustion, spent adrenaline, and the deep, bruised ache radiating from his thoroughly used hole. With a sigh, Buck bent down and hauled Eddie up effortlessly, tossing him over his shoulder in a swift fireman’s carry.
Eddie squirmed, yelling indignantly, "Buck! Put me down, you Neanderthal! I can walk!"
Buck just laughed, the sound warm and rich, and delivered a sharp, stinging smack to Eddie’s bare ass cheek. "Quit it," Buck ordered, his voice laced with affection and command. "Or I’ll drop you."
Eddie stopped struggling instantly, a sharp gasp escaping him at the unexpected sting and the sheer dominance in Buck’s tone. He went limp over Buck’s shoulder, surrendering to the firm grip as Buck carried him effortlessly into the cramped bathroom. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh after the moonlit bedroom. Buck lowered Eddie carefully into the lukewarm shower spray, joining him before the water could properly warm. He didn’t speak; his hands did the talking. Rough washcloth strokes scrubbed away sweat, tears, lube, and the unmistakable slick evidence of Buck’s release trickling down Eddie’s inner thighs. Eddie leaned back against Buck’s chest, letting him scrub gently between his legs, the soap stinging his tender, stretched entrance but cleansing the profound intimacy Buck had left behind. Buck rinsed Eddie meticulously, his touch shifting from utilitarian to tender as he smoothed water over Eddie’s shoulders and back. Then, with a low groan muffled against Eddie’s wet neck, Buck pressed Eddie face-first against the cool tiles. Eddie gasped as Buck’s hard cock slid effortlessly back into his slick, loosened hole—already primed and pliant—fucking him slowly, deeply, with possessive thrusts until Eddie came untouched, shaking silently against the wall. Buck followed with a muffled curse, biting Eddie’s shoulder as he pulled out and came at Eddie's back instead.
Buck turned off the water and helped a trembling Eddie step out onto the bathmat. He grabbed a clean towel and dried Eddie with surprising gentleness, patting his abused hole with careful softness before wrapping the towel around his waist. Buck then rummaged in a drawer, pulling out an old, soft LAFD t-shirt and a pair of faded sweatpants. "Here," Buck murmured, helping Eddie into the clothes. The shirt smelled overwhelmingly of Buck—citrus body wash and *him*—and the sweatpants pooled comically around Eddie’s ankles. Buck dried himself quickly, pulled on briefs, and guided Eddie wordlessly back to the bedroom. He stripped the ruined top sheet with efficient motions, tossed a clean one over the mattress, and pulled Eddie down beside him.
They probably just fell asleep for three hours. Eddie wasn't sure; time dissolved into the deep, velvety darkness. He lay on his side, facing away, Buck’s strong arm draped heavily over his waist, Buck’s chest a solid wall of warmth against his back. Buck’s slow, even breaths ruffled Eddie’s damp hair. Eddie felt anchored, shielded. The frantic energy, the fear, the bewildering shift in his identity—it all receded, muffled by Buck’s steady heartbeat against his spine and the profound, bone-deep exhaustion. He sighed, a long, slow release of tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Eddie could swear he never slept as peacefully as that time, cocooned in Buck’s scent and warmth, the raw vulnerability of the night replaced by a simple, profound safety.