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Steve stirs cream into his steaming mug, relishing in the comforting smell of fresh coffee. He had stayed up late last night, cramming some final bits of material that he’s convinced will be on this morning’s final, and the first sip of caffeine is what he needs to feel like he’s ready to go.
Halfway through his coffee he looks at the clock, deciding he’s let Eddie snooze as long as possible. Somehow, Eddie’s unarousable by proper alarm clocks nowadays, having become reliant on Steve to keep his sleep schedule on track.
Steve pads calmly into their bedroom, addressing the monstrous pile of bedsheets with a single foot sticking out. “Alright, Eds, now you really have to get up,” he says kindly.
A rumbling groan erupts from the mess, low and indignant. “Five more minutessss. The sun isn’t even up yet,” Eddie protests.
Steve smirks and reaches forward to pull the sheets away from where he’s fairly certain Eddie’s head will be. He’s close enough, letting the full force of the early morning sunlight stream onto the bed. Eddie hisses and turns violently to bury himself away from the light, a mess of curly hair flying wildly around.
“It burns!” Eddie exclaims.
“You are so dramatic,” Steve deadpans, though he drops the bedsheets anyway. “Come on, Jeff made me promise that you’d be ready on time. You can sleep on the way there. And I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
Eddie swears into his pillow. “Stupid sound check. Stupid road trips.” He pokes his head out, curls covering most of his face like a mask. “Promise you’ll be there?” He asks sweetly.
Steve brushes Eddie’s hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. “Front row, like always.”
Eddie beams, his smile reaching his puffy eyes. “Perfect.”
–
Steve grabs a drink from the bar and tucks his backstage pass under his shirt. He’s had people try to steal it off of him in the past, so he’s learned his lesson.
This is one of the biggest venues that Corroded Coffin has ever played in, which fills Steve with both immeasurable pride and a guilty amount of fear. He had missed Eddie a weirdly large amount when the band had toured for only two months last year, right in the middle of Steve’s first year of college, so the fact that they’re gaining popularity probably means even bigger tours, both longer and farther away, in the near future.
It’s fine, though, Steve tells himself. In two and a half years he’ll have his degree and then he can tour with the band wherever they go. For now he’ll enjoy the concerts that he can attend, even if they are a three-hour drive away.
He makes his way to the front of the crowd, showing up early enough that it’s not a brutal affair. It’ll be a true mosh pit soon enough, but Steve’s come prepared with proper boots and dark clothing that won’t show any spilled drinks. His patented don't-fuck-with-me-bitchface is just a bonus.
He sees some fans he remembers from a show in Chicago a couple weeks ago and gives them a wave. One of the girls points to her shirt, showing it’s the same merch as Steve’s, and gives him a thumbs up. Steve smiles and gives a thumbs up back, briefly considering going over to stand with them during the show, but then the lights dim and it’s too late.
“Madison, how we doin’ tonight?” Eddie’s voice screams over the speakers.
And then the show begins, and Steve can’t take his eyes away from the stage for all the money in the world.
–
The security guard holds the curtain aside just enough for Steve to squeeze by. Steve thanks him with a small wave, ears still ringing from the encore. The band had closed with a ten-minute long alternating drum and guitar solo, something Steve had never seen them do before, and his heart’s still racing from it. It doesn’t seem to be a cliché to say that Eddie gets better every time he picks up his guitar, the band sounding more like they’re rocketing to stardom at every show they play.
Speaking of Eddie, the man is jumping up and down; wild, sweaty hair bouncing about and then sticking to his face as he stills and looks to the sky in a dramatic prayer.
“Oh, Gods of Rock, thank you for smiling down on us tonight,” he announces with reverence. Though Steve smiles, the other members of Corroded Coffin mirror Eddie’s serious gaze upwards, Gareth even kissing his drumsticks and holding them straight above him. “We are forever indebted to your greatness and will continue to blow the roof off of any establishment willing to have us.”
“Amen,” the other members say in unison. They then disperse, giving Steve the opportunity to approach Eddie.
“Great show,” Steve starts, putting his hands in his back pockets. The band may know about Steve and Eddie’s true relationship, but they’re still keeping it from the public for now, which means Steve has to physically restrain himself from touching Eddie sometimes. And man is it difficult, especially when Eddie is buzzing from adrenaline, eyeliner smudged and so much of his sweaty skin visible through the cut-out sleeves of his t-shirt.
Eddie turns his head slightly to just barely regard Steve, then not-so-subtly rakes his eyes down Steve’s body. It makes Steve shiver, force his hands further into his back pockets, and look around to make sure no one else is looking.
“How’d a groupie get back here?” Eddie teases as he zips up his guitar case.
Which…huh. Eddie’s never called Steve a groupie before, not even as a joke, but it sparks a little delight in Steve’s belly. He decides to play along, letting Eddie decide if he wants to make this a proper game.
“Bribed the security guard,” Steve murmurs, leaning a fraction closer into Eddie’s space. “You were just so good tonight, and I’ve been working up the courage to, you know, talk to you.”
Eddie faces Steve straight on now, crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Hell, yeah. “Steve,” Steve blurts, then briefly chastises himself. He could’ve come up with any name! Why did he stick with his own? Oh well, too little too late.
“Steve,” Eddie says, tilting his head and reaching out to pluck at a hair on Steve’s shirt. “Nice name. Has some decent rhymes.”
Steve flushes. Why is his mouth dry? “Uh, yeah. Eddie’s a good name too.” He runs a hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the motion.
Eddie bites his lip, then leans in to whisper in Steve’s ear. “I’ve got a room in the hotel next door. Room service, nice view. Want to come back with me so you can tell me more about what you liked about the show?”
Steve shudders, blood rushing south. “Yes.”
“Excellent.”
–
They sneak out the back to avoid running into stragglers, both of them with their hoods up against the rain that had started pouring sometime during the show. Steve lets himself pretend that they’re instead shielding themselves from photographers, all wanting a photo of Eddie and the mystery man he’s bringing home with him.
It’s so tough to keep himself from crowding into Eddie’s space once they’re in the elevator, dripping wet and panting with exhilaration. But he’s committing to whatever little charade they’ve got going on, and he decides that he should play it safe. Until they’re in the hotel room, at least.
“Here’s my humble abode for the evening,” Eddie says as he leads Steve to their hotel room door. He unlocks it and lets it swing wide open, bowing and indicating for Steve to enter first. It’s charming, and Steve mutters a small thank you as he walks through.
They both pointedly ignore that Steve’s overnight bag is already in the corner, TV left on from the game show Steve had been watching before heading out to the concert.
“Sorry, let me turn that off,” Eddie says, giving Steve another once-over in the light of a single bedside lamp Steve had left on, before he grabs the remote off the bed. That gives Steve enough time to shed his jacket and hang it on the coat rack. When Eddie turns back, he smirks, big eyes flashing.
“S’not healthy to keep wet clothing on,” Steve defends weakly.
“Silly me,” Eddie replies, taking his jacket off and dropping it to the ground without care. “Well then, sweetheart, you’d better get out of those jeans. Shirt, too. Don’t want you to catch a cold.”
“You too,” Steve says, though with the way Eddie’s looking at him, he’s not sure how much of Eddie he’s going to be able to touch in the near future.
“Maybe. If you’re worth it,” Eddie says, though he does step out of his shoes and jeans. He pushes his hair back while Steve decides fuck it and strips totally naked, spurred on by Eddie’s words. He has all this pent-up energy, from writing (and feeling like he did well on) his final, driving alone to the concert, and then watching as Eddie had commanded a crowd with all the ease and sexiness in the world. Needless to say, Steve’s vibrating and needy and has to put all that potential to use somehow.
Steve takes a step towards Eddie and smiles shyly, blinking in a way he hopes comes across as seductive. “What can I do to be worth it?”
It seems to work, because Eddie sighs out a big breath. “Get on the bed, sweetheart.”
Steve goes carefully, crawling backwards until he’s sitting against the headboard, spreading his legs to leave plenty of room for Eddie. “Like this?”
Eddie crosses his arms and puts a hand to his mouth, appraising Steve like he’s a piece of art. Steve thinks he’s going to tell him to move, but instead Eddie asks, “do you touch yourself during our concerts?”
“Wh-what?” Steve stutters.
“I said,” Eddie says, walking a perimeter around the bed, making Steve feel more and more like a model, a prize even, “do you touch yourself? Or wish you could? Do you join those mosh pits so you can rub up against other people, to hide how you get off on my performance? I’ve seen you, you know,” and now he’s leaning closer, but not close enough for Steve to reach out and touch, “at our shows. I’ve never seen someone try to undress me with their eyes as much as you do.”
Steve’s hard, now. Can’t pinpoint when it happened but suddenly he’s tense and leaking a bit and he has no idea what to say to get Eddie to touch him.
“Yeah, I do,” Steve pants. He can’t take his eyes off of Eddie. “Or- I mean, I wish I could. But I’m too busy watching you.”
Eddie hums like he’s considering something. “Then do it,” he says.
“What?” Steve asks.
Eddie points at Steve’s dick. “Touch yourself, like you would have at the concert. Show me.”
Steve licks his lips. Yeah, he can do that. Sure. This isn’t driving him insane.
He takes himself in hand and starts lightly stroking the way he thinks will show himself off best to Eddie. It’s dry and rough the way he’s learned to love, and he has to force his eyes to stay open. It’s worth it, because he gets to watch Eddie’s gaze darken.
“Not bad,” Eddie says like it’s a simple observation, though Steve can see that Eddie’s straining against his boxers now, too. “What’s your favorite song of ours?”
“No Time For Sleep,” Steve whines out too quickly, as a shiver of pleasure makes its way up his spine.
That finally gets Eddie kneeling on the bed, his hair starting to dry in a frizzy halo against the dim light of the room. “Fitting,” Eddie says, crawling so he’s hovering above Steve’s knees, “given I plan to use you all night long.”
“Please,” Steve breathes and tips his head back to show his throat, hoping Eddie will take the invitation.
Blessedly, he does, first running his hands up Steve’s legs with those beautifully calloused hands, skipping from Steve’s inner thighs to his stomach and continuing up his sides. One hand stays on Steve’s ribs, the other trailing to wrap solidly around the side of Steve’s neck. Steve’s moving his hand a little faster now, starting to wish for just a little bit of lube or saliva or something, but really he doesn’t care because Eddie is looking at him like he’s the only thing in the universe and that attention sends his mind reeling.
“Okay?” Eddie asks, barely audible.
Steve tips his head to catch Eddie’s eye. “Okay. You?”
Eddie leans forward so their lips are as close as possible without actually touching. “Okay.”
Then Eddie kisses him, too soft and too light, but it sets a dam to burst in Steve’s chest. Suddenly, he needs his hands on Eddie now . He puts both hands on Eddie’s sides, just underneath the hem of Eddie’s shirt, and moves them everywhere he can, all while Eddie thoroughly takes Steve apart with his mouth.
Eddie kisses like he does pretty much anything: with the most reckless enthusiasm he can muster, and it drives Steve wild. Licking in as deep as he can, Eddie barely allows Steve to come up for breath. He stays balanced above Steve, the hand on Steve’s neck holding firm while the other braces against the wall behind Steve’s head. Steve’s legs are still spread wide and all he wants is for Eddie to move down, or maybe rearrange Steve, so they can touch everywhere.
“Wanna take my shirt off for me, baby?” Eddie asks in the brief moment between kisses. “Maybe I’ll let you keep it, if you promise to wear it to our next show.”
Steve nods and rips Eddie’s shirt above his head as quickly as possible. It gets briefly caught on Eddie’s guitar pick necklace and once Eddie’s shirt hits the ground, Steve wraps a finger in the chain.
Looking at Eddie sweetly, batting his eyelashes again, asks, “can I have this too?”
Eddie grins in a way that can only be described as predatory. “No chance, sweetheart. But it’s nice of you to ask.” He trails a finger down Steve’s cheek and Steve turns towards it instinctively. Eddie takes the hint and puts the digit to Steve’s lips, and Steve laves it over with his tongue. “Be careful with the goods, baby. That’s it,” Eddie purrs, as if Steve would ever be anything other than gentle when it comes to Eddie’s hands.
Steve sucks Eddie’s finger as much as he can, relishing in Eddie’s encouraging moans. He can’t help it, he grabs Eddie’s hand and makes him stick out another finger, taking them both down and sucking.
“What are you trying to hint at here, sweetheart?” Eddie asks. “You want me to put these somewhere when you’re done, or are you trying to show off how well you suck dick?”
Steve doesn’t stop, just looks up at Eddie’s gaze and holds it. The truth is, he doesn’t know what he wants. He wants Eddie to decide, and he hopes Eddie catches on.
Thank every Rock God Eddie prays to, he does.
“Hmm, both I see,” Eddie says. He pulls away entirely, though, and Steve makes pathetic grabby hands, his face falling into a deep frown because Eddie is a lot of things, but he’s not usually a tease.
Eddie laughs, not meanly, and runs a hand comfortingly up Steve’s thigh. “Sorry baby, I just had a thought that I think might make you feel extra good. Get off the bed for a minute for me, yeah?”
Steve does, though he kneels a bit on the bed when he stands. For some reason, his knees are weak.
Eddie sheds his boxers so it’s just him, his necklace, and his tattoos. He then lays down on the bed, propping his head up on the pillows. He takes Steve’s hand, but when Steve tries to climb on top to kiss Eddie again, Eddie wags one of his wet fingers.
“Uh uh. Head over there. Ass up here,” Eddie says, pointing his intent.
Steve swallows. This is…new.
He likes it.
“Yeah, alright,” Steve says, but first grabs Eddie’s wet fingers and takes them into his mouth once more, letting some saliva drip out the corners of his lips.
“Shit, babe, I know why they call it getting lucky now,” Eddie says before ripping his fingers free and indicating for Steve to do what he had said.
Steve positions himself on all fours, mouth hovering over Eddie’s hard dick. He knows he’s in a good position when he can feel Eddie’s breath on his upper thighs, but he still asks, “this okay?”
Eddie grabs one of Steve’s asscheeks and pulls it to the side firmly. There’s a tight stretch that comes from it and it makes Steve close his eyes to attempt to get a grip.
“Perfect,” Eddie says, then spits on Steve’s exposed hole.
Steve takes that fantastically hot feeling as his cue to start, so he lowers his lips to Eddie’s cock and licks at the slit once, twice, before taking the head into his mouth. At the same time, one of Eddie’s fingers breaches Steve’s entrance, a little slow and sweet the way Steve always likes to start.
Steve moans over Eddie’s cock, taking him in more, more, more. Eddie’s pumping his finger inside of Steve, now, and it’s only another few seconds before the other wet finger joins in. He’s timing his fingers with Steve’s pace, Steve realizes, so Steve slows down to a crawl and tries to take Eddie deep. It fortunately works, the angle allowing Steve to deepthroat without choking like he’s been practicing for so long, and Eddie’s fingers are as deep as they’ll go, scissoring as wide as possible.
“You’re so hot, baby,” Eddie says, and a drop of precome drips from Steve’s neglected dick. God, Eddie’s voice is a divine tenor, more heavenly than any preacher’s. “How many guys did you get to fuck you so you could be ready for me? How many cocks did you suck to get this good?”
Yours, only yours, Steve wants to say, because it’s the truth, but he doesn’t want to pull off right now. He’s found a good rhythm, timing his movements with his breaths. Plus, his brain might not be at full cognitive ability right now, but he assumes Eddie’s questions are rhetorical.
Eddie spits on Steve again and adds a third finger, curling and pressing where he knows will send endless tingles up Steve’s spine. Steve’s throat constricts around Eddie’s length and he coughs for the first time, pulling off to catch his breath.
“Sorry, sorry,” Steve breathes. “Just feels so good, Eddie.”
Eddie laughs darkly. “Good. Get back at it, then, princess. And don’t stop until I come in that pretty mouth.”
Shit, okay, Steve can do this. He lowers back down, as far as he can go, then moves back up. He speeds up, still giving attention to every inch of Eddie’s dick, eyes rolling back from the combination of Eddie’s spreading fingers, the feel of him stretching Steve in two equally desirable places, the scent of him. There’s nothing Steve can do except to throw himself into ecstasy.
Eddie must have a sixth sense, because his free hand wraps tightly around the base of Steve’s dick. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he says sweetly. “But I am close, so don’t you stop.”
So Steve doesn’t. He moves, and moves, and moves, and then takes his right hand and fondles Eddie’s balls the way he’s learned Eddie really likes, and suddenly Eddie is bucking his hips deep into Steve’s throat and his come floods Steve’s mouth.
“Shit,” Eddie groans. Steve swallows as much as he can, wiping his chin with his hand for what he can’t get.
He tries to move so Eddie can have a little space, but suddenly there’s a slap on his ass and Eddie is moving so fast Steve can’t keep up. In a flash, Eddie’s still-hard dick is at Steve’s ass, Steve still on all fours. Eddie’s fingertips dig into the meat of Steve’s asscheeks and pull him apart.
“We’re. Not. Done,” Eddie spits, and oh shit that does something to Steve. Steve can’t see Eddie’s eyes right now, but he assumes they’re pitch black. “I wasn’t kidding when I said all night, baby. Gonna make you want to tell the world how good of a lay Eddie Fucking Munson is.” And then he pushes into Steve in one go and fucks Steve with no mercy.
Steve’s so gone now. So, so gone. He can barely find his voice long enough to say, “yeah, yeah I’ll tell anyone. Everyone. You’re the best I’ve ever had, Eddie. Never gonna find better.” He’s a bonfire, unable to tell up from down, the only point of reality he knows is Eddie’s cock in his ass, and it’s moving in and out with brutal precision. “Eddie, Eddie please,” Steve whines. How is Eddie still fucking him so good? How is he not crazy overstimulated right now?
Eddie leans over and pushes Steve’s face into the covers, not hard but enough to shock Steve. “Be quiet,” he hisses. “If you need to scream like you do at our concerts, at least do it into the bed.”
God, Steve is never going to recover from this. Holy shit. Holy. Shit.
Then Eddie grabs Steve’s dick and there’s nothing Steve can do to hold on anymore. Between the perfection of Eddie fucking him and the thought of needing to be quiet, Steve’s mouth opens wide and he whines, muffled, into the covers. He’s coming, his orgasm like a bolt of lightning.
“Eddie, fuck!” Steve keens, spurting all over the sheets and Eddie’s hand.
“Yeah, baby, good job, you’re perfect,” Eddie says, rubbing Steve’s back. When Steve stills, Eddie pulls out gently. Steve takes deep breaths, the world coming back to him slowly.
Eddie maneuvers them under the covers, gets Steve to lay on his chest. It happens a little faster than Steve thinks is possible, but then again, time has always gotten a little floaty right after Steve comes.
“Love you,” Steve mutters with a soft kiss to Eddie’s chest.
Eddie kisses the top of Steve’s head. “Love you too. You sure that was okay?”
Steve looks up, kisses Eddie on the lips. “Yeah. Promise.”