Archive of Our Own

Eddie stares at the closed door of Steve’s bedroom. Weird.

He’s never awake before Steve, and Steve only ever closes his bedroom door if he has someone over. And while Eddie thought Steve was going to bring someone home last night, there definitely wasn’t anyone else walking along the beach with them at 2 AM.

Which was fine, obviously. It’s just that Steve really seemed to be hitting it off with an alpha at the bar, so Eddie started talking to a handsome little beta. Was under the assumption that they’d both bring someone back to celebrate the first night of their Boys Trip.

But then Steve was at his side, strangely distant. Frowning like he was trying to remember how to do long division or something.

Steve didn’t ask Eddie not to bring the beta back with them, but Eddie’s a good friend. Steve’s already listened to him enough through the paperthin shared wall back in their apartment; Eddie didn’t want to start their holiday off with him having to listen to Eddie again when something was obviously bugging him.

Eddie knows that Steve hates it when Eddie goes alpha on him, but to Steve, showing the tiniest hint of concern is enough to make him start flinging accusations. So Eddie was tentative as they walked along the water, asking Steve if something happened with the guy at the bar.

Instead of rolling his eyes, Steve just shook his head. Strangely distant as he brushed Eddie off, said that he just wasn’t feeling it.

Eddie let it drop at the time, chalked it up to one of Steve’s mood swings.

But as he stares at his door now, he thinks back to all of yesterday. Because honestly, in hindsight, Steve has been weird since they arrived.

That’s not exactly abnormal, because Eddie has always known that Steve Harrington is fucking weird. He’s incredibly familiar with the sides of Steve that don’t normally get to see the sunshine, including the full spectrum of Steve’s fucking weird behavior.

He sips his coffee and drums his fingers on the counter, trying to pinpoint the moment when something must’ve happened. Something that he didn’t notice, but was enough to make Steve slightly off.

He thinks about their flight, automatically guessing that that must be the cause. He knows the flight made Eddie feel fucking weird. It would make sense that Steve would’ve thrown in the towel of normalcy once they were both buckled into their seats on the airplane and Eddie lost control of his ability to Act Brave. When Steve had reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing reassuringly before he’d (seemingly) made it his life’s goal to distract Eddie from the fact that they were sitting together in a tin can and hurtling towards death. Together.

But no.

Steve had been perfectly fine. Had been the picture of the ideal flight partner. He had distracted Eddie fully, holding his hand the whole time. Didn’t even flinch when Eddie’s grip tightened to the point that Eddie was sure the omega must’ve been in pain. But it wasn’t then.

He’s pretty sure it wasn’t any time between when they’d disembarked and when Steve had wheeled their luggage over to the car rental kiosk. Eddie might be older by a year and some change, but there have always been occasions where Steve’s experience-based knowledge has made him feel like a sheltered child, pulled along for the ride. Steve got them sorted with a carbon copy of the bimmer and effortlessly loaded their luggage into the trunk while Eddie fulfilled his role of just 'standing there and looking pretty.’

(And listen. That’s Eddie’s best friend. He might’ve had one or two inappropriate thoughts about Steve while he was going through his first rut, but he never entertained them. His appreciation for Steve’s upper-body strength is purely academic. Scientific, even. He will always be fascinated by the physical strength Steve possesses, such a drastic contrast to what they’d both been taught in school.)

Was it when they were collecting the keys? He knows that Steve used to spend summers at his grandparent’s beachhouse when he was little, and that there were a few years that he opted to spend summers with Eddie and Wayne in the trailer park instead because he wasn’t ready to go back so soon after they passed, but surely knocking on the next-door neighbor's door and getting the spare keys wasn’t enough to knock Steve Harrington off-kilter.

He was fine when they were settling in, when they walked down to the convenience store to buy beer and, after a little whining from Eddie, ended up walking back with beer and matching I ♥️ Bitter Beach t-shirts.

His eyebrows pinch together, thinking back to when they were getting ready to go out to the only bar within walking distance. When he’d made himself at home on Steve’s bed while Steve tried to pick out what to wear, before he’d gone into the en suite to get dressed.

Eddie sits up straighter. That’s it. That was the first sign something was wrong.

In all his years of knowing Steve Harrington, he’s never once been shy about his body. Eddie’s seen his naked ass more than his own. He frequently has to tell Steve to put some clothes on before someone comes around.

They’ve been friends since before Steve could even walk properly. Sharing everything is more than second nature; it’s the preferred way to live. There’s no shame between them, ever.

So the fact that Steve didn’t want to change in front of him feels like such a glaringly obvious sign in hindsight.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember what they were talking about before it happened. Vaguely remembers cracking a joke, asking Steve if he was going to try and break his record for most strangers kissed in one night, but surely not.

Surely that couldn’t have been enough to upset Steve.

That’s something they have in common—something they bond over. It’s why they can live so harmoniously in their shitty little apartment, because they’re both equally aware and accepting of the fact that they’re both proud sluts. Every January, they mark off the dates for their trips to the clinic so they can get tested together, and they always tag along if the other feels the need to go sooner.

They’d gone to get tested before this trip because they both came with the intention of fucking as many people as possible.

Steve’s always been more open about being a hopeless romantic, but it’s something that they’ve talked about endlessly throughout their friendship. Soulmates. As kids, they used to dream about it, would take turns playing pretend as each other’s soulmates.

As Eddie’s gotten older, he can feel his hope start to flicker. Hates to admit it, but he doesn’t think he’s ever going to find his person. He still dreams, though. Hopes that one day he’ll kiss the right person and everything will slot into place.

Unlike him, Steve just grows more hopeful as the years pass. He’s convinced that they’re out there and that he’s going to find them. It’s why Steve is so eager to kiss as many people as he can at parties, hoping that one of them will be The One.

It’s embarrassing in hindsight, but when they were both in that rocky stage of puberty and started butting heads more frequently, there was a part of Eddie that hoped that neither of them would ever find their soulmates. A selfish part dreaded the thought of Steve kissing the right person. Someone who would steal him away from Eddie.

Eddie knows better now. He knows that he’s bound to love Steve’s soulmate because he already loves Steve, and anyone who is made for his best friend is going to automatically be a good one in Eddie’s books. But more than that, he wants it for Steve because he wants Steve to be happy. He deserves to find his person.

It’s one of their rare similarities. Being hopeless romantics who are determined to stay single, just in case. Despite the fact that Steve is practically programmed to be the doting boyfriend, he remains unattached so that he can keep kissing whoever he wants, bringing an endless string of people home, while Eddie does the same.

They’d joked about it, about the possibility of either of them finding their soulmates in Bitter Beach of all places, before Steve had made an awful joke about how he would be a bitter beach if Eddie found his soulmate before him.

So surely, Eddie’s little joke about Steve kissing a bunch of people couldn’t have made him act so weird, but the more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure it was that.

He sets his empty mug down on the counter and gets up, striding over to Steve’s door and opening without knocking. Ready to lay into Steve and ask what his problem is. Talk it out, because they don’t do this. They tell each other when something is wrong.

His indignation wavers when he sees Steve’s bed, empty and neatly made. For a moment, he wonders if Steve just went to the beach without him, tired of waiting for Eddie to wake up.

But the bathroom door is closed. Eddie bangs his fist against it.

“Steve? Are you there?”

They’re both on blockers—Eddie’s as a result of Richard complaining about the ripe alpha scent in his house before he’d made Eddie an appointment with their family GP and told Steve to pay for his prescription—but Eddie can smell it now that he’s close enough. The acrid scent of an omega in distress.

Eddie’s umbrage is snuffed out and swiftly replaced with concern.

A moment later, the bathroom door opens. Just enough for Syeve to poke his head out, like some sitcom damsel who's been caught without her clothes.

“Hey Eddie,” he says, overly breezy. “I know we were gonna go to the beach, but I think you should go without me.” He punctuates his words with a wince.

Eddie pulls a face, concern momentarily forgotten. “Dude, what? No! The whole point is that we’re sticking together on this trip.”

Steve groans, his voice coming out whiny and nasal when he says, “Eddieeee! Just go! I’ve gotta deal with…something.”

Eddie perks up. Hones in on the glimpse of embarrassment Steve let slip and pounces. Will never turn down an opportunity to tease him.

“Oh my God, are you having tummy trouble?” Eddie asks, going so far as to use the ‘polite expression’ Clarissa Harrington told Steve to use after he made a joke about Eddie having the shits.

Steve levels him with a blank expression, one eyebrow arching up to show how unimpressed he is.

Eddie taps his fingers against his chin and paces in front of the bathroom door. He can feel Steve glaring at him as he does.

“Not that, then. Time of the month?” He stops his pacing to look at Steve, watching his expression.

Steve frowns at him, shaking his head.

Then Eddie smells it. Oh. Fuck.

“Fuck!”

“I know!” Steve yelps in reply.

“But?! But you aren’t due for two weeks, right?!”

“Exactly!”

“Did you bring anything?”

“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!”

He knows that Steve's heats are notoriously tough, and that Steve is very proud of his heat solution. He swears by his combination of prescription muscle relaxers strong enough to knock out a horse, and fuck-off big Ben Wa balls to clamp down on. In the time that they’ve lived together, Eddie’s never seen Steve go through a heat without them, but he remembers when they were younger. When Steve had to be booked out of school for a full week, remembers how he could hear Steve crying all the way from the front door when he’d swing by to drop off his homework.

“Shit!”

“I know!” Steve shouts back at him, then he sags, leaning his head against the doorframe. “Shit.”

Eddie wraps his arms around his stomach and takes a step back. Steve starts to bang his forehead against the doorframe.

He’s pretty sure they’re both seeing all their plans for the trip going down the drain.

“So… What are you gonna do?”

Steve keeps banging his forehead against the door.

Eddie sits down at the foot of Steve’s bed.

He knows enough about heats, thanks to his friendship with Steve.

He knows it’s the locking that’s a killer. An omega’s lock is usually something that only happens when they cum, but when they’re in heat, it’s pretty much constant until there is something to properly lock onto. Then there are a few hours of relief before it starts up again.

He knows that right now, Steve’s body is seizing up and trying to clamp down on something that isn’t there. Something vaguely round and thick. Unless Steve locks onto something or gets knotted and seeded, he’s in for five days of agony.

Steve’s still standing up straight, though, so that’s a good sign. It means that the cramps probably haven’t properly started up yet.

Steve groans before he comes to sit down next to Eddie, slumping over with his head in his hands.

Eddie looks around Steve’s room, like he’s just waiting for the perfect knot replacement to appear before his eyes. He looks down at his balled-up hands, thinks about the size of his own knot.

“Have you ever tried to…uh, you know. Fist yourself? Couldn't that work?”

Steve rolls his eyes. "No, Eddie, I can’t just fist myself.”

But then Steve looks down between his legs. Reaches a hand down and makes the motion.

“I mean, maybe? Actually? I’ve never done it, but might as well try, I guess.”

Steve’s words sound muffled around him. Like he’s underwater. Eddie’s eyes fixate on the wet spot between Steve’s legs, right where his fingers are touching himself.

He’s snapped out of it by a light slap to the head.

“Hey! Please don’t go all horny alpha on me here.”

Eddie shakes his head and blinks a few times. He turns his head away to breathe air that doesn’t scent of slick. He might not be attracted to Steve, but his body definitely is. Programmed to respond when there’s a viable mate so close to him.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m back. So, you gonna try it?”

“It?”

Eddie turns his into the shape of a silent duck and thrusts it at Steve’s shoulder. Steve bats him away.

“I guess I’m going to have to; otherwise, I think my cramps are gonna fucking kill me when they start getting stronger.”

Eddie sighs. Thinks about how their weeklong Boys Trip is now going to consist of Eddie wallowing alone while Steve suffers in pain with a fist up his flower—another ‘polite expression’ he’s learned from Clarissa.

He exhales, sounding like a horse, when he leans back and stares at the ceiling. Racking his brain before he sits up straight. Turning to Steve now that he’s sure he’s found the solution.

“I can go out and find a nice alpha for you!”

Steve arches an eyebrow and snorts. “Eddie, I love you, man, but I don’t know if I trust you enough to find the right alpha to fuck me, okay?”

“Hey! You and I both know that I could pick out the perfect alpha for you.”

“What are you gonna do then, huh? Just let some stranger in to fuck me? You gonna watch while it happens to make sure they don’t take advantage? You gonna trust them to be clean?”

“Well, what about the guy from last night? He can’t be that hard to find!”

“God, no. He was a dud. Practically creamed his jeans the second I kissed him.”

“Okay, fair point.” Eddie loves him enough to know that Steve deserves better than sex from some Two-Pump-Chump he met in a bar. “How about I go to a pharmacy and try to get some of your horse pills?”

“It’s Sunday,” Steve groans, only offering elaboration when Eddie cocks his head. “I already called around, and all of them are closed.” He winces again, his hands now cradling his stomach. “‘Sides, they won’t have my prescription on file.”

Eddie stares at his face as it pinches up in pain and distress turns the air around them sour. He slaps his thighs.

“You know what? I’m going to call your mom, okay? She’ll know what to do.”

Steve nods, but his face screws up even more. Eddie turns tail to get help before it can get worse.

He feels buoyed by his phone call.

Clarissa said she’s going to call Steve’s GP first thing tomorrow morning so that he can fax Steve’s prescription to the nearest pharmacy, and she promised that she’s going to find a courier that’s open so that she can send Steve his balls so that he’ll have them by Tuesday.

So with any luck, Steve’s heat will simmer for the rest of the day and only hit tomorrow.

His hopes are dashed when he gets back to Steve’s room, finding him on his bed. Face pressed into the mattress and ass up like he’s presenting.

He clears his throat, politely looking away from the wet patch that has doubled in size when Steve rolls onto his back.

“You know, if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve expected heats to be so awful,” he jokes, rejoining him on the bed.

Steve exhales through his nose, trying to smile. “S’fucking…porn’s fault. Or I dunno what. I mean, I wish I turned into a sex-crazed freak for a week, rather than feeling like my body is trying to turn inside out. Punishment for not being mated, I guess.” He licks his lips before he sits up slowly. “Wha’ did my mom say?”

“Okay, so! She’s going to call your doctor so that I’ll be able to get your meds tomorrow, and she’s sending your balls with express shipping so they’ll be with you by Tuesday. So as long as your heat doesn’t get worse until then...” he trails off, watching Steve’s face crumple.

Steve looks away, blowing out a slow breath and nodding to himself.

“Okay, that’s—fuck, that’s okay. I can handle a day.” He licks his lips again before he looks back at Eddie. Jesus, his face is ashen. Eddie can see sweat beading on his forehead.

“Steve.”

“I can handle a day, man. Just—just go on without me today, yeah? I’ll be fine.”

“Steve.”

Steve gulps, squeezing his eyes shut. It clashes with the strained smile he puts on for Eddie’s benefit.

“Eddie, just go on without me. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. While I stay here and suffer, on the brink of death.”

They really do spend too much time together—Eddie’s never heard Steve be this dramatic before. He reaches out and squeezes Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on, you’re not on the brink of death, man. More like, I don’t know. The brink of fisting yourself.” He teases lightly.

“Eddie, shut the fuck up, or I will fucking kill you. I know these beaches, Ed. I’ll put you where no one will ever find y—oh fuck!”

Steve grabs for his hand and squeezes so hard that Eddie almost fears for his safety after the last threat.

“Shit, sorry, man. I’ll shut up. No more jokes from me. Not one.”

Steve squeezes his hand harder.

”Shut up!” Except it sounds more like ‘uh-huh-hup’ with the miserable way he whines. He sucks in a deep breath and scrunches his face up before exhaling slowly. He loosens his grip, then turns to Eddie and offers a pitiful smile. “Honestly, it will probably be better if you just go. Give me some time to scream and shit, you know?”

Eddie bumps their knees together. “You know you can scream and shit in front of me, Harrington.”

If nothing else, he manages to get a little smile out of Steve. It’s small, but it’s there.

“Oh, fuck off, dude. You know what I mean.”

“And you know what I mean. Don’t let me stop you from doing whatever you need to do.”

Steve hunches over and grimaces. Eddie reaches back for one of his pillows, passing it to Steve so he can hug it to his chest and groan. Less pain, more frustration.

“It’s not that; it’s just. Stupid biology or something. My fuck-ass body doesn’t want to shout at you right now.”

“Because I’m an alpha? Wow, Steve, that’s pretty sexist, man. Thinking omegas shouldn’t shout because of their des.”

“I hate you so fucking much.” Eddie doesn’t get the chance to tease him over that, because then Steve is snapping back onto the bed, shoulders against the mattress, and chest arching up. He throws the pillow to the side in favor of pulling up his shirt and grabbing at his stomach. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Shit, he’s tearing up now. Eddie hates it when Steve cries. He’s the crier between them, not Steve. And worse, Eddie’s always been the type of person who starts crying whenever someone else does. And since Steve hardly ever cries, seeing it happen wounds something deep inside of him. His hands hover over Steve, scared to touch him but unsure of what else to do. He sniffles, blinking away the mist in his eyes.

Steve groans as his head lols over to look at Eddie, then he squawks. “Why are you crying?”

Eddie wipes his running nose with the back of his wrist.

“I don’t fucking know! Maybe because my best friend is suffering and I don’t know what the fuck to do?! Maybe because I’m panicking? Maybe because my fuck-ass brain feels like I’m doing a shitty job because I can’t help you?” He babbles, trying to scrub away his tears now that he’s seemingly distracted Steve enough for his tears to stop.

Steve wrenches a hand from his stomach and instead grabs one of Eddie’s. He laces their fingers together and squeezes. He’s not sure why, but something in his brain tells him to pull Steve’s hand closer to his face so that he can nuzzle at his wrist. Scenting him like they used to do when they were pups.

“I really think you should go, Eddie. Take the car, take my wallet. Take whatever the fuck you want. Just—oh Jesus fucking fuck—go, okay. Leave the house for a few hours. You being here is making both of us miserable.”

“But what will you do?” He blinks away a stray tear and tries to smile at Steve. “You just want me gone so you can stuff an apple up there, don’t you?”

“An apple?”

“I dunno, it was the first round thing that popped into my mind.”

Steve just rolls his eyes, but Eddie sees his other hand move from the corner of his eye. Watches as his fingers scratch at golden skin, like he’s trying to claw out a part of him.

“Fuck you, Munson, but close. Think I’m gonna have to try and—ah!—fist myself.”

Eddie blinks, eyes widening. “Oh, uh. Yeah, okay, I’ll leave. But I’m not going to go have fun, okay?”

Steve tries to smile. “What, you're gonna make yourself miserable so we can match?”

“No, I’m going to drive around until I can find you something stronger than Advil, okay? And I’ll try and find you one of those inflatable knots—”

“I’ve tried them. Popped them instantly.”

Eddie balks. “Popped? You managed to pop an inflatable knotting toy? How?”

“Filled it. Clenched. Knot popped. Too tight to fill it again. Kept deflating. Broke it.”

Eddie leans back, more than a little scared of the level of tightness Steve’s apparently working with.

“How about just a normal toy? So you can at least have something inside?”

Steve lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, sure. If you manage to find a sex toy within a hundred-mile radius, I will fucking kiss you. Now please, get out of here.”

—

Eddie taps against the steering wheel, grinding his teeth. How the fuck is the traffic so bad when there’s fucking nothing open on a Sunday?

He had to drive for half an hour before he found a general store for a tiny pharmacy tucked into the back.

He’d been frantic when he spoke to the pharmacist, nearly gnashing his teeth when the elderly man said all he could recommend were some light heat relief pills.

It was only when Eddie started tearing up, thinking about Steve in pain, that the guy sighed and offered him a small smile. Left Eddie sniffling at the counter while he started scanning the shelves.

He placed a box of OTC muscle relaxants, heat relief pills (that Eddie has heard Steve complain about; weak as piss, he said), and non-drowsy allergy medication.

“Use all of these together. You can technically double the dosage of these ones,” he said, tapping the heat relief, “but not the others.”

He started bagging them up, handing them to Eddie to pay, before he’d leaned in. “And between you and me, they sell poppers at the corner store the next block over. They’re great for short term relief; they should help with the locking.”

They didn’t sell toys, so Eddie paid for the medicine and a few protein bars before running to the corner shop. He bought a bottle of poppers and a tube of tennis balls, then dug around in his wallet for change so he could buy a bouncy ball from one of the toy machines. Thought maybe he could attach it to a piece of string or something.

He was feeling good, ready to race back to Steve and lay offering at his feet.

But of course, on the way back, a million cars just seemed to materialize on the road. It’s not even noon yet, where the fuck is everyone going?

He finally starts to move, only to be caught at another red light. While he waits, he digs around in the plastic bag on the passenger seat. He pops open the tube of tennis balls before digging his wallet out of his pocket. Wayne’s warned him about keeping condoms in his wallet, but he always makes sure to keep one tucked away for emergencies.

This whole ordeal counts as an emergency, he figures as he tears it open with his teeth. Rolls it onto the tennis ball, then swings it around by the excess latex. Maybe if Steve tries hard enough, it could work.

The light finally turns green and Eddie gets into gear, crawling forward. Only for the light to change as soon as he’s right up front.

He groans, jabbing at the buttons of the radio until the music cuts out. He doesn’t want the comfort of sound, not when he knows that Steve is all alone and suffering.

There are very few things he wouldn’t do for Steve, so the fact that he’s been gone so long and all he has to show for it is pain relief that Steve has told him doesn’t work and a selection of balls makes him want to rip out his hair.

He’ll always feel protective over Steve; he always wants to make him smile. It has been that way ever since they were little, and Eddie bumped into him when he was running in the park.

Steve had toppled over and started wailing, screaming his lungs out so that his nanny came running.

But Eddie was faster. He’d plopped down next to the toddler and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling him so that his tears stopped and he started giggling.

At first, they were just park friends—excited to see each other whenever their playtimes happened to line up—but before long, their parents started scheduling playdates for them.

The way their friendship blossomed could never have happened if not for the anomaly that was Eddie’s scent when he was younger.

For the first six years, everyone thought that Eddie was an omega. He doesn’t remember it very well, but Wayne told him that his scent held a baby-powder-softness that made him smell exactly like his mother.

It was only two years later, after Elizabeth Munson passed, that the talcum powder scent melted away and Wayne realized what his nephew was.

Wayne didn’t see a problem with their friendship, but the Harringtons were traditional (as Wayne put it). No one blinked an eye at the two omega rugrats giggling under the slide, but now? They were horrified to realize that they’d been letting an alpha share food, baths, and a bed with their precious omega.

Thankfully, by that point, any attempt at separating SteveandEddie ended with Steve Harrington showing off his lung capacity and screaming until he was placed back into Eddie’s orbit.

While Wayne has always loved Steve like his own son, it took a few years, but now Eddie knows that Richard and Clarissa adore him, albeit begrudgingly.

He and Steve are lucky in a way. Their designations never got between them, never grew into anything more. They’re both hyper-aware of their luck because, all their lives, people have been adamant that apparently compatible alphas and omegas can’t just be friends.

They’re stubborn, the pair of them. Eddie’s sure that the fact that they’ve never even considered dating is because of that. Both of them have a desperate need to prove others wrong.

It’s visible in who they are individually. Eddie refuses to be the ‘typical alpha male’, and instead eschews sports. Grows his hair out. Nurtures his love of ‘typical omega’ hobbies like reading and sewing, and has the greatest nest in all of Hawkins. While strong, dependable Steve—swim team co-captain, basketball star, and both homecoming and prom king—would better fit the stereotypical idea of an alpha to anyone who doesn’t know any better.

(Eddie knows better, though. As does Steve.)

They’ve both lived through nearly two decades of people expecting them to date, which has just ensured they never will.

(They've talked about it, though. Thrice upon a time.

Once, when they were approaching high school, everyone in their grade started verbalizing their expectation for EddieandSteve to kiss already!

Twice, when Steve's basketball teammates turned on Eddie and started joking that Eddie wasn’t the alpha he claimed he was, and he became a prospective target for bullying.

Thrice, when those same teammates cottoned onto the fact that Steve was unclaimed and had started getting handsy.

Steve and Eddie had tucked close, in the safety of darkness, and moaned about how much easier it would’ve been if they’d fallen for each other. If they had been romantic soulmates who wanted to kiss at their middle school parties. Who could’ve shown Steve’s teammates that Steve was a claimed omega, and that Eddie was the alpha to do the job.)

Eddie will always be proud of the fact that he’s never thought of Steve that way, but he also knows that’s not entirely true.

He can vividly remember holding Steve’s hand when he was only 5 years old and pressing his lips to Steve’s cheek. Couldn’t understand why he did it, but knew he wanted to do it. (He also knew that Steve must’ve felt the same urge, because even at 4 years old, Steve didn’t run away.)

And Eddie knows that Steve’s attractive. Objectively.

He knows that if Steve wasn’t his best friend, he probably would’ve had the most embarrassing crush on the omega throughout high school. But that’s Steve’s fault, he thinks. It’s Steve’s fault for embodying everything Eddie’s ever dreamed of in a partner.

But Eddie has always viewed Steve like a piece of art; he knows that Steve is beautiful, but he doesn’t want to fuck him. Maybe it’s because Eddie’s always known that he has the anti-Midas touch, and he’s never allowed himself to even consider touching Steve like that.

Steve is like a sunny day, and Eddie knows he should never complain about the sunshine. Not unless he wants to cause rainfall.

He doesn’t view Steve as a brother. Not like how he views his bandmates. Steve has always existed in this limbo. In this special section of Eddie’s heart that he carved out for himself.

It’s nearly 1 PM by the time he gets back. Trying to hop out of the car before he’s even taken off his seatbelt.

He races to the front door, only for his stomach to plummet. He can smell Steve’s agony already. He can hear Steve crying before he’s even unlocked the door.

He twists the key in the lock, and the crying stops. Fucking Steve. Such a self-sacrificing bastard, trying not to let Eddie know he’s in pain. Eddie would kick him if he wasn’t already down.

Steve’s on the floor by the sofa, on his knees and hunched over like a little beetle. He turns his head where it’s pressed against the wood flooring and tries to smile at Eddie. As if Eddie can’t see how red his face is and how wet his cheeks are from crying. As if his nose isn’t stinging from the suffocating scent of singed plastic.

“Oh, hey, you’re back.”

Eddie jumps into action. Shuts the front door and upends his shopping bag on the kitchen counter. Ripping open different boxes until he’s got a handful of medication, then filling a glass of water.

Steve sits up, but just barely. Doesn’t unwind his arms from where they’re wrapped around his stomach and instead presses his open mouth to Eddie’s palm like he’s a pony at a petting zoo. He lets Eddie tilt his head back to give him some water, but as soon as he’s swallowed, Eddie sets the glass down beside him and flails back to the counter for the bottle of poppers.

He tears at the plastic wrapper then sinks back down to his knees, shoving the little bottle under Steve’s nose. Luckily, Steve knows him well enough to trust him, so he breathes in deeply.

Moans on the exhale.

“Holy shit, I love you,” he sighs, his face going slack as his muscles momentarily relax.

Eddie caps the bottle again and presses it into Steve’s palm before he slides to kneel behind him. He wraps his own arms around Steve’s stomach and holds him tight while they wait for the pills to kick in.

He’s only ever used poppers to help his partners relax for anal, but they seem to be doing the trick for Steve. It’s probably not great how Steve keeps going back for more, but Eddie’s not going to try and rescind the small relief he’s managed to give him.

It must be some ten minutes before Steve sets the bottle down and leans back against Eddie.

“Okay, okay. I think I’m good.”

Eddie loosens his hold, allowing Steve to crawl over to the couch and pull himself up shakily.

Eddie follows him, sitting down beside him with one hand instantly going back to stroke between his shoulder blades.

“The pills kicked in?” He asks softly. Steve wipes at his cheeks and nods, but his smile is still tight. Eddie frowns. “Still hurts though, doesn’t it?”

Steve gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Jesus, Steve. Don’t say sorry to me! I’m sorry I couldn’t find you something better.” He thinks about the condom-wrapped tennis ball sitting in the footwell of the bimmer, deciding not to bring that up.

“Eddie, shut up. You helped me a lot more than I could help myself.”

“So.” He pauses to bend and pick up the poppers again when Steve makes grabby hands for them. “I’m guessing the fisting thing didn’t go so well.”

“Ugh, you have no idea.” He inhales deeply, the scent of agony replaced by sharp solvents. “I just couldn’t do it for some reason. Kinda like a wax.”

“A wax?”

Steve recaps the bottle. “Yeah. Like, I could never wax my own legs because, like, my brain knows it’s gonna hurt. But it’s fine if someone else does it, because then at least I don’t have to be the one to yank the wax strip off.”

“I’ve never had one, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He’s not sure why, but for some reason Steve’s cheeks pink a little. Eddie’s just happy to see a little color back on his face. Feels almost scent-drunk from the momentary burst of sweetness coming from Steve. So much so that he opens his mouth and keeps talking.

“And I mean, if you need someone to yank the wax strip off, I don’t mind helping.”

His mouth snaps shut, and his eyes widen. Steve reels back to stare at him. Why the fuck did he say that? His hand shoots out, as if he can physically pluck the words out of the air and shove them back into his mouth. Steve slaps his hand away.

“Eddie,” Steve laughs, “did you seriously just offer to fist me?”

Eddie shrugs, trying to play it off. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve ever done for you.” Steve squints at him. “Need I remind you of the great pimple incident of ‘82?”

It’s enough to cut the tension, shocking a genuine laugh out of Steve.

“Fuck off! We promised to never talk about that again!”

“You gotta admit that it was worse than fisting, though.”

Steve shoves at his shoulder before he groans. Folds forward and puts his head between his knees.

“Please don't make me laugh. Hurts.”

Eddie reaches out, rests a hand on Steve’s back and massages circles between his shoulder blades as Steve sniffs his poppers again.

Steve sits up slowly, leaning back against the sofa. “Besides, screw fisting. Might as well just fuck me so we can get this over with,” he slurs lazily, before his mouth snaps shut.

He doesn’t look at Eddie because, shit.

Eddie copies him and leans back. “Jesus,” he whispers.

Steve swallows.

“Yeah.”

Eddie looks over at Steve and finds Steve looking back.

It just makes too much sense. His best friend deserves only the best sex, and fuck it, but it seems like Eddie is the best suited for the job. He’s got enough info on him; he's overheard enough. He knows what Steve likes. He can make this a smooth, painless experience.

Steve looks away and stares at the wall as he chews at his thumbnail. His eyes dart back to Eddie, then away again.

Eddie knows that they’re both thinking about it. They’re both thinking about the obvious solution but refusing to acknowledge it. They both know that there’s a way to make his heat end, lickity split. A biological cheat code in the form of a knot.

But then again, it’s not like Steve can just ask. Eddie has to do it. Eddie has to be the one to offer.

“Steve—”

Steve opens his mouth, but whatever response he had goes unsaid, because then he’s wincing. Shoulders hunching forward as he brings both hands to his stomach and presses down.

“You good?” He rubs Steve’s back slowly, trying to ease him a little. There’s not much else he can do right now, other than wait until he can give Steve more medication. Well, that, and—

Eddie turns his head, staring at the wall and exhaling through his nose when his hindbrain perks up at the thought. It’s going to be fine. He needs to help Steve.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just another cramp, but they’re getting better. Still sucks though.” Steve sighs, rolling his shoulders back. Shrugging Eddie’s hand off him. Eddie won’t stand for that, though, so he throws his arm over Steve’s shoulder, pulling him into his side with a tight hold on his neck.

Steve reaches up, pressing his palm to Eddie’s cheek and pushing his face away, until he loosens his hold.

Eddie flops back onto the sofa. Inhales deeply because it really is too good of a solution to ignore.

“Steve—” He tries again. Gets cut off by Steve groaning and sitting up, elbows to his knees.

“Don’t say it.”

“It’s the best solution—”

“It’s not.”

“I could—“

“You couldn’t.”

Eddie huffs, then leans forward and slaps his palm over Steve’s mouth.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Steve groans against his palm, shaking Eddie off so he can glower up at the ceiling. He sags back into the sofa, exhaling slowly.

“Eddie, you really don’t have to do this.”

Eddie flaps his hand in the air, waving his question away.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I want to.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. He tilts his head. “You want to?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, horndog.” He punches Steve’s shoulder softly. “I mean, I want to help you, Steve. And if helping you this time means nailing you, then I’m down.”

Steve shoves at Eddie’s shoulder then. “You’re the horndog here, horndog.”

Eddie shakes his hand off in favor of turning to face him properly.

“Steve, I’m only offering because I want to help, okay? So,” he pauses, can’t believe he has to ask again. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Steve groans, squeezing his eyes shut as his face pinches up.

“Yeah,” Steve says on the outbreath. “Please,” he tacks on. An afterthought.

Eddie grimaces. “Gross, man. Don’t say please about me fucking you.”

“I’m just being polite! You’re the one who offered!”

“Because I’m polite!”

He can tell it’s the wrong thing to say. Eddie watches as Steve’s brow furrows, how he sucks his lower lip into his mouth. He always does that when he’s concentrating; Eddie knows that he must be trying to think up ways to make Eddie rescind said offer.

Before he can come up with anything, Eddie props his elbow up on the back of the sofa and leans his head against his fist. Adopting a casual air when he says, “Besides, maybe I just wanna see if the rumors are true.”

That pulls Steve out of his thoughts. He turns his head and eyes Eddie warily.

“What rumors?”

“You know what rumors.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “There are lots of rumors. Which ones are you talking about, Munson?”

Eddie grins at him.

“The rumor that Steve Harrington has the best pussy on campus.”

Steve’s mouth drops open, staring at Eddie for half a second before he shoves him, sending him toppling back onto the couch cushion.

“Oh my fucking God! No one has ever said that! Shut up, dude.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he bats Steve’s hands away when he tries to shove him again. “I’ve had multiple people tell me that.”

(Of course, it was always brought up as a fun little conversation topic. Like people thought he’d also fucked Steve so they could bond over his wonderpussy or whatever. It was jarring the first time, but every time since, Eddie’s felt a strange burst of pride. Like, wow, good for you, Steve.)

Steve pins him down, eyes round and full of disbelief as he stares down at him. “No one has told you that! Oh my God, take it back!”

“They call you Super Snatch,” he giggles.

“They do not! You’re fucking lying!”

At least he’s laughing again, Eddie thinks. Surrounded by his sweet happiness, until Steve seems to realize how strong his scent’s gotten.

His laughter cuts out and he pulls back.

Before Eddie can blink, he’s covered with a thick blanket of tension.

“What if this makes things weird? Between us.” Steve says to his knees.

Eddie wants to laugh because of course, it will. There’s no way he can plow Steve Harrington and pretend it never happened. It’s going to be a bit weird.

But he also knows that if anyone can bounce back from it, it’s them. It might be weird tomorrow morning, but they’ll be back to normal by sunset.

Eddie slips off the couch, scooching over so that he can kneel down in front of Steve. Covering each of Steve’s hands with his own and squeezing.

“Things between us have always been weird, man. That’s why we work,” Eddie assures him, sounding more certain than he feels. “We’ll figure it out, okay? This is just one friend helping another friend, right?”

Steve sighs. Finally looks up at Eddie and offers him a smile. “Yeah, I guess.” Steve leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’d do the same for you, too. By the way. You know, if you needed it.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah? You’d knot me to cut my heat short?”

Steve slaps his arm. “Shut up. I meant, like, if you ever had a rough rut and needed someone to knot, you can always call me.”

“Grooooossss!" Eddie whines, pulling a face and playing up his disgust. Steve bats at his chest again. Eddie’s used to it. The way Steve has to hide his love of touch behind shit like that.

“Oh fuck off, you should be so fucking lucky to have sex with me.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Harrington. Now, your room or mine?”

Eddie ducks into his own bathroom to tie up his hair and splash his face, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come. Adamant that he won’t let this be awkward. He refuses.

Steve’s his best friend, and he won’t let it be weird. Just a little platonic knotting between friends.

It seems Steve has had a similar talk to himself because he seems a lot more at ease when Eddie meets him in his bedroom, dropping a beach towel and a bottle of lube onto the duvet—he’s never been with an omega in heat, and he doesn’t know what Steve’s slick situation is, so. Just in case.

Steve cocks his head when he sees the lube but doesn’t say anything about it.

“How should we do this?” Eddie asks.

Steve stares at the bed, hands on his hips. Like the bed has personally offended him.

“Could cut a hole in the sheet?” Eddie suggests when Steve doesn’t say anything. The medication really must be working, because Steve looks strangely good. The deathly pallor has been replaced by a healthy sheen. Christ, he’s practically glowing. Eddie’s sure he’s never seen Steve glow, in or out of heat.

Steve reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “No, no. That will just make it weirder. How about fully clothed with the lights off?”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“And?”

“Unless you wanna tape some trash bags up, I don’t think we’re going to be doing it in the dark.”

Steve sighs heavily. “Fine. Curtains closed at least.”

“Obviously.” Eddie rolls his eyes, then sits down on the edge of the bed. “From behind?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, uh—I don’t like being knotted from behind. Stresses my inner omega out, or whatever. I have to see who’s knotting me. So I vote missionary.”

Eddie thinks he’s going to have the opposite problem; he's not sure how his brain is going to handle staring at Steve’s face when he’s locked inside of him. But this is for Steve, and he can always just close his eyes.

“Fine by me.” Eddie reaches out, slapping Steve’s thigh with the back of his hand. Pinching at the hem of his (questionable) khaki shorts. “Think these will have to come off then.”

Steve frowns, batting his hands away. “Why?”

“You wanna spend twenty minutes with your knees trapped together?”

Steve twists his mouth. Looks like he’s sucking a boiled sweet.

“Fine. Okay. You’re right.”

He reaches down for his zipper. Eddie launches himself from the bed, his hand shooting out to grab Steve’s wrist.

“Not yet!”

Steve blanches. “What do you mean, not yet?! We should get this over with! While I’m still nice and medicated, preferably.”

Eddie drags his palms down his face. “Shit, no. Yeah, we should do it now.” He nods towards the bed. “You undress, and I’ll go and get us some water.”

When he comes back with water bottles and protein bars in hand, Steve is still fully dressed.

Eddie pauses in the doorway, watching as Steve reaches back, grabbing hold of his foot when he bends his knee. He leans into the stretch, getting his foot right up against his ass.

“Are you… Are you stretching?”

Steve looks over at him. Drops his foot and switches to the other. “Yeah.”

Eddie narrows his eyes.

“…Why?”

Steve stumbles on his one leg, dropping his right foot back to the floor. He pulls his left arm across his chest and shrugs, pushing his bicep up against his chin with the movement.

“Don’t you stretch before sex?”

Christ, should Eddie be stretching? “No, I do not stretch before sex?! Why would I?”

Steve shrugs. “So you can limber up and get, you know, flexible.”

“Why do you want to be flexible right now?!”

Steve switches to his other arm and scoffs. "Well, excuse me for wanting to show you a good time.”

“Dude, we agreed on straight-forward missionary. I don’t think there are any tricks you can do to spice that up.”

Steve pulls a face, making his eyes wide and moving his mouth as he mocks Eddie’s words.

He drops his arm, then shuffles his legs wider. Leans over with his arms outstretched until his palms are flat on the floor. Eddie tries to scope out his ass—once again, for scientific reasons—but he can’t at this angle.

“I didn’t have you pegged as such a boring fuck, Munson,” Steve teases, words spoken to the floor. Too scared to say it to Eddie’s face, he’d bet.

Eddie’s chin pulls back from the affront. “Hey! I am not a boring fuck!”

Steve looks up, his face red from hanging upside down. God, it must be the heat that is making his eyes all fucking sparkly. He looks prettier than Eddie’s ever seen him.

“You sure about that, Daddy?” Steve teases. Snorting when Eddie pulls a face. “Walls go both ways, dude.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard enough of your sappy love making to last a lifetime.”

“Whatever you say, doggy style.”

“Shut up, Harrington. We both know I’m kinkier than you, Mr. Hand Holder.”

Steve rolls his eyes and looks back at the floor.

“You’ve just talked your way out of getting your hand held, Ed. I hope you’re happy.”

Eddie scoffs, but his heart isn’t in it. Too distracted by the sight of Steve shuffling his legs wider apart, then leaning down and getting his fucking elbows on the floor. Eddie can see his ass now.

He whistles, long and low. “Shit, man, you got a permit for that thing?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grumbles to the ground, pressing deeper and rocking side to side before he stands up. Stretches done. No reason not to get down to business now. Steve swallows.

“Okay. So. We’re doing this? We’re actually doing it?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, come on. Let’s get you knotted,” he says, trying to sound more confident than he feels.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Say that again after I fuck your brains out.”

“You wish.”

Neither of them move, still standing at the foot of the bed and staring at each other.

Eddie fingers at the hem of his t-shirt, then he remembers what they decided on. Instead, he reaches for his belt buckle and forces out a fake little laugh. “Just watch; I am going to be the best lay of your life.”

Steve copies him, his fingers hovering over the button of his shorts but not going so far as to pop them open. He forces out a laugh of his own. “You’ve got some stiff competition.”

Maybe if they keep making jokes about it, it will be easier to get through this.

“You’re gonna eat your words,” he rasps. Swallows thickly. Christ, why is his mouth so dry? “I’ll make you cum buckets.”

Steve finally pops his button. Eddie’s heart starts to race. Holy shit, they’re really doing this. It sounds like someone's holding a mic up to Steve’s zipper and Eddie's got his ear against the amp, the drag of it near-deafening.

“You don’t have to make me cum, man. Just gotta knot me.”

Maybe Steve has a point. Maybe he should just rut into him and get it over with. It’s just not in his nature, though. He wants his partner to have fun. Even if said partner once admitted to liking the smell of his own farts.

Eddie laughs uneasily, his eyes caught in a back-and-forth between Steve’s face and his hands. He licks along the seam of his lips. “Excuse me, but I am not a selfish lover. I’m gonna make sure you get yours.”

Steve’s smile is tight, thumbs tucked into his waistband but not pushing down. He looks down at Eddie’s crotch, where his fingers are still toying with the tongue of his belt.

God. They’re really doing this.

“Just gotta rip the bandaid off,” he mutters to himself. Flinches at how loud the whole process is.

His shoulders climb up towards his ears as he pulls his belt free of its loops and then lets it drop to the floor. Jumps from fright when the buckle meets hardwood, even though he’s the one that caused the sound.

He looks back at Steve before he continues, but Steve offers him nothing. His lower lip is back in his mouth, standing alarmingly still as he watches Eddie reach for his button. It makes no sound, but Steve jolts like Eddie’s popped a balloon instead of a button.

Eddie inhales, squeezing his eyes shut. Teeth clenched until—

“Wait!”

Eddie’s hands freeze, his eyes blinking open so that he can stare at Steve.

Steve grimaces, hissing through his teeth before saying, “Maybe—maybe we shouldn’t.”

Oh, thank God.

“I just...” Steve continues. “I feel like sex might just be... I dunno, too weird?”

Oh, thank God.

Eddie tries not to let it show how relieved he feels. Obviously, he would fuck Steve if that’s what he wanted, but still. It’s just a relief knowing that he’s not going to have to. He rushes to do his button back up.

“So… What do you want to do?”

Steve’s cheeks flush. “I mean, what if you just, you know, fisted me? Instead of, uh, the full…sex.” He sounds shy when he asks, which is not something Eddie would naturally associate with Steve.

Eddie feels nothing but relief now that he knows he’s not going to stick his dick into his best friend. Fisting sounds like a walk in the park. It feels like he can breathe again; the weight has lifted from his chest.

“Steve, man, it literally makes no difference to me.” But just in case Steve changes his mind—because Eddie will still knot him, if he asks—he continues. “Fist or fuck, I’m down for whatever will help you. Besides, it’s not like my hands are doing anything right now.”

“Eddie.”

“I just mean—you’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

“In what situation would I ever need to fist you?”

“I dunno. Hypothetically, you’d do it, right?”

“Right, okay. Sure, if you ever miraculously went into heat and needed someone to fist your cunt, I’d be happy to help." He pinches the bridge of his nose again. “It's just. Hypothetically is different from actually doing it. This is a big thing you’re offering to do for me, Eddie.”

“Come on, man. We both know it’s going to be harder on you than me. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual, right? It’s just one friend helping the other.”

Steve blows out a long breath, tension draining from his shoulders.

“Okay, yeah. Just one friend helping another. And, uh, fair warning, I’ll probably need to cum so that I can properly lock, since, you know, your fist can’t seed me.”

Eddie shrugs. “Whatever you need.”

Steve’s hands go back to his waistband.

“Just…don’t look, okay?”

Eddie ignores the incongruity that is Steve Super-comfortable-with-his-own-nudity Harrington telling Eddie not to look and instead raises an eyebrow. ”Steve, I’m gonna be sticking my hand inside you. I kinda need to look, man.”

“Okay, but like. Don’t look too much, then.”

“Right, so no eye contact either, then?”

“Eddie!”

“Chill, man. Fine. I’ll only look as much as I need to, okay?”

Eddie turns away to give him some privacy, spreading the beach towel out on the bed, but Steve still seems uncomfortable about stripping down.

“I’m just gonna go wash my hands.”

Steve grunts in acknowledgement.

He always keeps his nails trimmed short, so there’s no danger of anything snagging, but he takes extra time looking them over after he’s scrubbed his hands clean. Giving Steve ample time to get comfortable.

Steve is sitting in the middle of the bed when he comes back, all the pillows rearranged in a crescent around his head. He’s still wearing his tank, but his lower half is bare. Knees up and pressed together to keep his bits hidden.

He’s just helping a friend, he tells himself as he climbs up onto the bed. Nothing to be weird about.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to Steve. “Do you wanna lie back?”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Just—just don’t say anything. Okay?”

“Steve, man, I’ve seen your bush before. Why would I—”

His words die on his tongue when Steve lies back and spreads his legs because—

“Did you—did you fucking shave for this?!”

Steve snaps his legs shut, then kicks at Eddie’s hand when he tries to part them again.

“I told you not to say anything!”

“When did you have time to shave?!” He grabs onto Steve’s right knee and pulls, getting a glimpse of a surprisingly hairless sliver of skin. Steve snaps his knees together.

“Dude, don’t like, look at it! Just shove your hand in, okay?” Steve groans. He goes to open his knees, then stops so he can glare at Eddie. “And, fuck off. No, I didn’t fucking shave for this! When would I have shaved for this?!”

Eddie reaches for his knees, and this time, Steve goes easily. Spreads his legs again so Eddie can see. He sucks his teeth. “I dunno, man, you seem to be missing a bush. Are you saying it just ran away?”

Steve snaps his legs closed again, catching Eddie’s left hand between bony knees. Eddie hisses, pulling his hand back to his chest.

“I got a wax, dipshit. Back home.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, man,” Steve sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. Looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. “We’re at the beach? I was gonna get laid? I wanted a fucking change? I don’t know, I just did it!”

“Well,” Eddie says with a wince, “plus side is you’re getting what you wanted. Kinda.”

Steve laughs, but it’s hollow. Nervous. Not like his normal witch cackle. He pushes himself to sit up, crossing his legs. Eddie can’t stop his eyes from snapping down before he looks back up at Steve’s face. Steve’s casual nudity was easier to handle when the tender parts of him were hidden behind hair.

“Should we just forget this?” Steve speaks softly, his face pinched from discomfort. “You can still go out and have fun; I won’t hold it against you. And hopefully I’ll be able to join you tomorrow night.”

Eddie copies Steve’s position, going from kneeling to sitting. He rests a hand over his lap, hiding how interested his traitorous dick is.

“Steve, man, this is our trip. I don’t want to go have fun when I know you’re here, miserable. And like, what’s a little platonic fisting between friends, right?”

“It’s just…” Steve starts, face all scrunched up as he looks down, talking to the bedspread instead of Eddie. “Promise this won’t make things weird, okay?”

He holds out his pinkie, deathly serious. Eddie links their pinkies together and squeezes.

“I promise.”

He leans in to kiss where they’re joined for good measure.

“Okay. Okay. Lying back now,” Steve narrates.

He settles into the pillows and brings his feet up onto the mattress while Eddie gets down on his front.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Eddie groans, looking up at Steve’s face. “Steve, I swear to God if you ask whether or not I’m sure one more time...”

“No, no. Just,” he says, looking away, cheeks pinking. “Do you think it’s gonna hurt?”

“You’ve taken a knot before, right?”

“Duh, Eddie. I’ve taken a knot.”

“There’s your answer.”

“But, like, your hands, man. They look pretty big.”

“Steve. First off, your hands are bigger than mine. But if it helps, my fist is almost the same size as my knot, so I’m sure you’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry, I’m good now. Just wanted to, uh, check.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly before he finally settles down between his legs.

One look at Steve, and he already knows he’s not going to need the lube.

He’s fucked a fair share of omegas, but he’s never been with one in heat, and God. He’s never seen such a wet pussy in real life.

He reaches for him, two fingers poised and ready to touch, but he pauses. Looks up the line of Steve’s body.

Steve stares up at the ceiling, his face forced into a neutral expression.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks one last time.

Steve nods twice. Licks his lips and closes his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, just. Please just—let’s get this over with.”

“Get this over with,” Eddie repeats, shaking his head. “Just what every alpha wants to hear.”

“Eddie.”

“Okay, okay. Just, are you sure you’re sure?”

Steve inhales shakily, then nods again.

“Yeah, I’m—as long as you’re sure, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Okay.” Eddie drags his eyes back down. “Okay. I’m just gonna…get started then.”

Steve doesn’t reply; he doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at the ceiling as Eddie finally touches him.

He tries to imagine that it’s not Steve. That it’s just another omega with an insanely nice pussy. Tries to unfocus his eyes as he spreads Steve open.

He sucks in a breath when even more slick trickles out of him. There’s already a wet spot on the towel. Jesus, okay.

He really is annoyingly pretty. Hopefully Eddie will manage to forget what his pussy looks like soon, because he’s not sure how he’s going to handle the knowledge that his best friend is walking around with this between his legs.

His own eyes roll back as soon as he sinks a finger into Steve, overwhelmed by the hot tight wet of him. His cock twitches, wanting inside. His hindbrain doesn’t care that it’s Steve; it just wants to be buried inside the eager little omega.

The first finger is followed by a second, then a third, spreading them apart and pressing against Steve’s softness. Steve’s already trying to latch around his fingers, so Eddie knows he needs to move things along before Steve locks again.

He fucks into Steve slowly, coaxing him open. He’s wet down to the wrist. Can’t hear anything over the slick sounds.

He buries his three fingers up to the third knuckle and spreads them again, his thumb hovering just over Steve’s clit. His instincts tell him to touch, to make his omega feel good, but Eddie beats those back with a stick. He’s not sure why exactly, but he knows touching Steve like that would be crossing a line.

He pulls his fingers out, then teases at Steve’s hole with all four fingers. Starts to press in slow, and—

“Oh my God!”

He looks up and sees Steve’s head tipped back, mouth hanging open. He’s panting, his tank sticking to his sweaty skin.

It’s weird to his brain, seeing Steve like this, but his body has no such qualms. He’s so fucking hard already, and seeing proof that his partner is enjoying himself makes his hindbrain feel near feral. Desperate to flip Steve over and mount him. Needs to fuck, breed, claim.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he withdraws his hand, then tucks his thumb in. Presses in with all five fingers.

Steve’s back arches, hands grabbing at the duvet.

“Oh, oh, please,” he breathes, cutting off in a whine. “Knot me, knot me, knot me.”

Eddie swallows thickly as his own cheeks burn, forcing his eyes to stay off Steve's face and instead watch as Steve’s body yields to him, opening up and taking it until his knuckles are brushing against Steve’s hole. Eddie can’t help the moan that comes out when, with just the tiniest bit of pressure, they pop inside, the rest of his hand following in one smooth slide.

Then he has to look away because, holy shit.

He’s wrist deep in Steve Harrington’s cunt. Jesus Christ. Steve Harrington is wrapped around his fucking wrist.

He twists his wrist, trying to make space, but as soon as he does, Steve squeaks on his inhale and his back bows, knees clamping together, and trying to lock Eddie’s arm in place as he pulses on his hand. Muscles locking down.

“Jesus,” he breathes. He can feel him slick up even more when he cums. Can’t help but go back on his word when he spreads Steve’s legs back open so that he can watch the way his clit twitches with it.

It almost feels like Steve is trying to push him out. His stomach is tense, and when Eddie looks up, he can see that his head is tipped back, one arm reaching up to claw at the pillows while the other slaps the mattress.

Eddie’s not really sure what to do, so he just thrusts his fist into him gently while he rides it out. Eyes drawn back to his stiff little clit as it relaxes and retracts rhythmically.

Steve finally relaxes, going soft and sweet and open. Eddie keeps fucking his hand into him though—knows better than to just stop, or worse, try to pull out right now. He needs to give Steve’s pussy something to bear down on.

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, hand locked inside, until Steve sighs happily and relaxes. Giving Eddie the chance to slowly ease out.

He stares down at his hand in wonder, suppressing the urge to spread his fingers apart or, even worse, sneak a taste, and instead he wipes his hand off on the towel.

When he looks back, Steve’s legs are together again, his knees bent up to his chest. Taking himself off display, in theory—where Eddie’s sitting, he can still see his swollen pussy, dripping onto the bed.

He shakes his head, forcing his eyes away. He sits up so that he can't see him anymore and instead looks up at Steve’s happy face. “I can’t believe I made you cream instantly.”

“Fuck off; I would’ve done the same with an apple.”

“You wound me.” Eddie’s not sure what compels him to do it, but he bumps his fist against Steve’s knee before saying, ”You’ve got a good lock, by the way. Congrats.”

Steve kicks out at him.

Eddie squawks. ”What was that for?!”

“You can’t just say that, man!” Steve giggles.

“What?”

“You can’t just say I’ve got a good lock, dude.”

“Why not? Why can’t one guy tell his pal he’s got a good puss?”

“A good—” Steve cuts off and covers his face with his hands, laughing into his palms. “Fucking hell, man. It’s a miracle that anyone wants to fuck you if that’s what your dirty talk is like.”

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows before he sits up. “Anyway, how are you feeling now? Better? Good?”

Steve hums, sated and happy. “Perfect. Should be set for a few hours, I think.”

—

Eddie’s crouched over and peering into a rock pool, the afternoon sun beating down on his bare back, when he hears his name called across the beach. He turns and sees Steve waving at him from where he's set up.

He holds his bag steady as he jogs over to him, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. Stares down at where Steve is stretched out on a beach towel wearing his ridiculous swim shorts. Butter fucking yellow with actual belt loops. He can’t believe people thought Steve was the cool one between them. Steve’s propped up on his elbows, leaning forward just enough that his face isn’t covered by the circle of protection offered by their beach umbrella.

“Already?” He tries not to sound too judgmental, but Jesus, he’s been wrist-deep in the rock pools and his hand still smells faintly like slick.

Steve gives him The Look—brows flat, mouth slightly down at the corners, unamused—before grumbling, “Not yet, asshole.” He looks away, nose in the air like a spoiled toy dog being offered bologna instead of prosciutto. “But maybe your hand just isn’t that satisfying.”

Eddie drops down to sit at the top of Steve’s towel, kicking up enough sand that it sticks to his tanning-oil-slathered biceps.

“If you want my knot, you just have to ask, Harrington.”

Steve sends him a withering glare, but it’s replaced by a smile when Eddie pops open the cooler and passes him a can of PBR.

Eddie cracks his own can and has a sip, then asks, “So why’d you call me over?”

“It’s not yet, but it’s soon.”

Eddie groans, leaning into his right palm. “Dude, we just got settled!” An exaggeration, sure, because they’ve been day-drinking on the beach for a few hours now, but still.

“I repeat: It’s not my fault your hand didn't satisfy me.”

“And I repeat: if you want my knot, you just have to ask.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he finally sits up properly, shoving his beer at Eddie for safekeeping. He crosses his legs and turns to face Eddie, stealing his can back.

“So I was thinking, we can probably just run home and get it done quick, then come right back.”

“Can’t we just do it here? I can go rinse my hands at one of the showers and we can put a towel over your lap.”

Steve gives him a repeat viewing of The Look.

“Eddie, I would rather die than be fisted on a public beach.”

Eddie groans. “Fine, but you’re carrying the cooler this time.”

“No dumbass, I mean, we leave our shit here.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What if someone steals it?”

“Dude, look at the beach.” Eddie looks. He sees the same 14 people he counted when they arrived. “I think we’re gonna be fine.”

“Fine, but if anything gets stolen, I’ll blame you.”

“Oh, no, I’m shaking in my boots,” Steve deadpans.

“And you have to buy me an ice cream when we come back.”

Steve looks heavenward, shaking his head in a dramatic imitation of disbelief. “Dear God, I never thought I’d have to bribe someone to finger me.”

He looks over at Eddie, narrowing his eyes. Eddie just sticks out his tongue.

A sigh. “Fine, if you’re a good little alpha, I’ll get you a fucking fudge pop. Now let’s go and get this out of the way.”

It’s a lot easier the second time, Eddie thinks as he feels Steve’s body pulse.

Steve was adamant that they wouldn’t take long, so he scoffed at Eddie’s suggestion of doing it in bed again. Is currently sitting with his ass on a beach towel on the sofa cushion, heels right on the edge. Fingers laced across his stomach as he tries to play it cool and pretend he isn’t enjoying it.

Eddie shuffles on his knees, twisting his wrist a little. He sees Steve’s eyes flutter.

It already feels less weird than it did this morning. Obviously, it is still weird, but the whole process has been smoother, faster.

Eddie’s fisted people before, but it’s different when it’s an omega in heat, someone who’s constantly primed to take a knot.

Since Steve wasn’t already trying to lock, his body took it perfectly. Opened up quick and easy.

Steve hasn’t locked yet, so they’re both just waiting for his body to properly latch.

Eddie knows he’s meant to look sparingly, but he can’t help the way his eyes keep finding their way back between Steve’s legs.

It’s not sexual—just one friend helping another—but Eddie’s hard again. Which is fine. Just a normal reaction. What isn’t as normal is that Eddie really can’t look away this time.

Steve’s got his head tipped back on the sofa, so it’s not like Eddie can really look at him, and viewing options when he's sitting on the floor aren't particularly interesting. So instead, he looks down. Watches the way that he splits Steve open. The way Steve stretches to accommodate him.

He knows he managed earlier, but it still felt impossible this time. Getting two fingers in and thinking he was going to work up to the full hand.

It’s true what he said—his hands aren’t as big as Steve’s. But they definitely look big enough like this, when he’s got Steve wrapped around his wrist.

His lips are swollen and flushed again, or maybe still. His cunt still looks sensitive and swollen, shiny from how wet he is. Taking Eddie’s fist so perfectly.

Steve taps his fingers against his chest and hums.

“Jesus, man, is it even gonna happen?”

“Don’t rush me, Eddie; I’m trying my best.”

Eddie rolls his shoulders. “Just, like, is there anything I can do?” He asks, hesitant to suggest Steve do something. But at the same time, his knees are starting to hurt, and he thinks he’s starting to get a little scent-drunk from having a dripping omega pussy under his nose for so long.

Steve sighs, his body relaxing with him. Fucking Christ, he feels nowhere close to latching.

“I don’t know why it’s not happening this time.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure they both know it’s because they started doing this too soon, so Steve’s not due for a natural lock just yet, and unless they want to just wait for it to happen, Steve needs to cum.

Eddie twists his hand again before he pulls out a little. Fucks back in. Gives Steve’s body something to help get him there.

Steve sighs, his lashes fluttering. He swallows before nodding. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

His eyes flick back down, watching the show. If he tries hard enough, he can forget that it’s Steve. Just sees an omega that is obviously enjoying themselves.

He can feel Steve starting to tighten, can hear little moans start to disrupt the rhythm of his panting.

Steve’s just so fucking wet. Eddie’s not used to being about to see so much detail, but now that Steve’s made himself look like a smooth Barbie, Eddie can see everything. Can see how slicked up he is now that his whole cunt is glossy with it.

He has a sudden thought—a sudden curiosity—and finds himself leaning forward, eager to discover what he tastes like. His tongue longs to flick against the stiff little clit, begging for attention.

Eddie licks his lips, then reels back. He swallows when he realizes how close he was to drooling, how close he was to tasting him. Fuck, tomorrow can't come fast enough. He refuses to turn into a knothead all because his best friend has a nice cunt.

He forces his eyes away, up to Steve’s face.

“Are you getting close?” Jesus, why does his voice sound like that? All throaty and deep? Thank God, Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He just nods, hums.

“Just a little more,” he says, but his words come out slightly melted together.

Eddie opens his mouth, about to offer to—

He snaps his mouth shut. He should not offer to do that. He knows he shouldn’t. That’s definitely a step further than what they’re doing. There is no reason for him to offer, and yet his mouth opens anyway, and before he can stop himself, he says,

“Do you want me to play with your clit? You know, to make you cum?”

“What?” Steve’s heavy-lidded eyes blink, trying to claw back some clarity. “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

Eddie shrugs his left shoulder, keeps fucking Steve. “I mean, I’m already down here anyway.”

Steve frowns, and honestly, Eddie gets it. Not sure why he offered. It feels different somehow. Like this, it’s just that Steve happens to cum when he’s wrapped around Eddie; it’s not that Eddie is making him cum.

He can’t tell what Steve’s thinking—which is rare enough that it’s a little worrying—but he’s pretty sure that it might be too weird for Steve, so he shrugs his shoulder again.

“Or you could do it. Rub your clit, I mean.” God, why are his cheeks burning? He doesn’t get embarrassed around Steve; what the fuck is happening? He shakes his head and grumbles, “I just wanna make you cum so I can get your pussy out of my face, man.”

Steve snorts, but then he nods. “Yeah, fuck, okay. Fair point.”

Eddie looks away, wanting to give him a little privacy, but then Steve moans softly, and his eyes are drawn right back.

And, okay.

He tries again to ignore the fact that it’s Steve, because it’s undeniably hot watching someone touch themselves. The sure way his fingers trace over his clit before he starts to rub himself in tight little circles.

His movements are confident, familiar. Pleasuring his body with ease as he goes from little circles to rubbing himself properly, pressing harder. Surprisingly rough with himself.

“Fuck me,” Steve gasps, back arching. “Fuck, please Eddie, fuck me!”

It takes Steve’s prompting for him to realize he’s stopped moving his hand.

“Shit, sorry.”

He gets up on his knees for leverage, his left hand resting just next to Steve’s hip, and then he starts to move again.

He tries to copy Steve’s intensity, swapping his gentle thrusts for something harder. His cock aches in envy.

Steve’s feet slip at the edge of the sofa cushion, thighs spread open as Eddie hunches over him and fucks him with his fist. Steve's fingers knock against his wrist, and he goes even faster, even harder.

Steve just keeps getting louder and louder, his left arm reaching back and gripping onto the back of the sofa for stability as his hips buck up off the cushion. Tilting up and meeting Eddie on each thrust, like his pussy is desperate for more.

Eddie huffs, and before he can second-guess himself, he pushes Steve’s hips down with his left hand. Keeps him pinned so that he can’t do anything but take it.

He can feel Steve getting tighter and tighter, making it hard for Eddie to keep fucking him. Too tight to pull out. He can tell that he’s getting close when all his sounds come out high and reedy, before he full-on sobs.

“I love you, fuck!” Steve pants, jaw tight. “I love you so much, Eddie.” He moans, grinding his hips down into it.

Eddie laughs; he can’t help it. “Love you too, Steve. Doing great, yeah? Just let go. Just like that.”

And then Steve is locking, his inner muscles trying to milk Eddie’s hand as he pulses with his orgasm. His hand falls away as he melts into the sofa, his legs flopping open. Already less self-conscious than the first time.

His clit twitches, and maybe it’s the day drinking, but even though his job is as good as done, Eddie still wants to reach down and touch it himself. Wants to see if he can make Steve feel as good as he makes himself feel.

He forces himself to look away, willing his dick to go down.

—

Their afternoon round of platonic fisting seemed to do the trick, because Steve has been nothing but smiles since. He practically skipped on the way back to the beach, offering zero complaints when Eddie reminded him of their deal, and he had to run to the shop to get him a Fudgsicle.

Eddie double, triple, quadruple checked with him when they were getting ready to go out, but Steve was adamant he didn’t need another round yet. Think I might be fine until morning, actually, he’d said.

Steve seemed in tip-top shape when they walked to the restaurant and when they sat down to eat. Eddie checked in with him again after, asking if he was sure he wanted to head straight to the bar or if he wanted to go home and freshen up.

But Steve was confident that he was fine, so Eddie was decidedly confident too.

Besides, the bar is only a ten-minute walk from the house anyway, he’d rationalized. He figured it would be easy enough to get back home if he really needed to.

Honestly, Steve seems better than fine. One afternoon in the sun and he’s already bronzed, his skin golden against the off-white of his fancy cashmere polo.

Eddie knows that with the blockers and everything, there’s no way that the rest of the people in the bar can actually tell that Steve’s in heat, but that doesn’t stop him from getting the attention of everyone around them. Eddie’s used to it—people fawning over Steve—but he’s not sure why something about it is bugging him tonight. Making his hindbrain’s hackles rise.

He’s not complaining, though. He’s gotten two free cocktails, thanks to Steve’s many admirers.

Eddie hasn’t been worrying because Steve’s a big boy; he knows his own limits. Every time Eddie has looked over at him so far, he’s seemed perfectly content. Flocked by suitors.

Eddie tears his focus away from the gorgeous alpha currently pawing at his bicep to look over at Steve again. Has to do a double take because somehow, within the three minutes since Eddie last checked on him, something has obviously turned.

He spares a quick apology before he rushes over, concern overriding his desire to get the guy’s number.

Steve’s eyes find Eddie’s in the crowd, his mouth falling open.

Help, he mouths, setting his mostly-full cocktail down on the counter.

Eddie has to shoulder a particularly burly beta out of the way to get to him, but then he’s instantly wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist.

“Shit, let’s get you home.”

They’ve been paying by the round, so he doesn’t have a tab to settle; he can just fight his way through the throng until they make their way through the door. Between the cool night air and the concern, he feels himself start to sober up instantly.

“Shit, Steve, what happened?” He hisses as they stumble down the wooden stairs, down onto the beach.

“I don’t know!” Steve whines. His words are slurred, his pain is sharp and sour. “I was fine, but then, out of nowhere—”

He stumbles on the sand, letting out a shrill cry.

“Fuck, fuck. It’s okay, Steve; it’s okay. We’re nearly home, okay?”

“Eddie,” he hiccups. “It feels so bad. Why does it feel so bad?”

Eddie’s own eyes start to tear up automatically. “I don’t know, Steve, but it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you. Don’t need to cry.”

“M’not crying,” Steve huffs. “You are.”

Okay. That’s good. He’s still in good spirits, at least. Eddie wipes his eyes and wills his tear ducts to calm down. If Steve’s not crying, there’s no reason for him to.

They push forward, managing to walk for what feels like hours but is probably closer to two minutes before Steve really starts to drag his feet. Making whimpery, miserable noises with each step.

Eddie squeezes his waist, shouldering more of his weight.

“Come on, Harrington. Just a little longer.”

Steve just groans, stumbling over his feet. Nearly tumbles forward. “I can’t,” he moans miserably. “Feels like m’gonna die.”

“Just five more minutes, man. You can do five minutes.”

Steve digs his heels in so that he nearly collapses into the sand when Eddie keeps trying to move.

“I can’t, Eddie.” God, now he’s crying. Eddie’s nose twitches as his body starts preparing the sympathy tears.

“Shit, okay, hop on my back, yeah? I’ll carry you.”

Steve starts shaking his head before Eddie even finishes speaking. “Hurts, Ed. Hurts.”

Eddie sucks his teeth. He wants to be annoyed that Steve left it late enough to be hitting so badly, but he knows it wasn't like that. Eddie didn't see it coming either.

“Fuck, okay. Guess we’re gonna have to do it here.”

Steve sobs, but he’s nodding.

What happened to ‘I’d rather die than get fisted on a public beach?’ he thinks to himself, knowing better than to say it aloud.

He wipes away the sweat on his forehead, about to drop to his knees, before he frowns.

Eddie’s hands are sticky and covered in who knows what. Stevie might be out of his mind right now, but Eddie knows that there will be hell to pay if Steve gets a UTI and realizes it’s because Eddie stuck his filthy hand up his hoo-ha.

He pats at his back pocket, reaching for his wallet, only to remember that he didn't replace his emergency condom after putting it on a tennis ball.

“Fuck. Do you have a condom?”

“Condom?” Steve manages to ask through gritted teeth. “We gonna fuck?”

Eddie snorts and looks up at Steve. He can only just make out his features in the light of the waxing crescent. Honestly, that really does seem like the best option right now. But his knots last a lot longer than Steve’s locks, and then they’d be trapped on the beach for twenty minutes instead of five.

“My hands are dirty.”

“Oh. Ew.”

“You’re the one who can’t wait until we get home.”

Steve sucks his teeth before his knees tremble as another wave of pain hits.

“Shit, shit, shit, just do it. Fist me, fuck me—I don’t care. I’m gonna fucking die, dude.”

He huffs, wondering if he can lick his hand clean before he remembers the shower stations. He looks down the beach and spots one some forty yards away.

“Okay, just wait right here; I’m going to go wash my hands.”

Steve groans. As soon as Eddie stops holding him up, he collapses onto his knees, then falls over. Curls up in the fetal position on the sand.

Eddie hovers, feels a physical pull to stay and care for him when he’s in such obvious distress, but then Steve warbles and it kicks him into gear.

He sprints across the beach to get to the showers, then rinses off his hands. He tries to get them as clean as he can before he runs back.

He keeps his right hand raised so that he won’t get it dirty again, struggling down onto his knees before jostling Steve’s shaking shoulder with his left hand.

“Okay, up you get, Steve.”

“Can’t move.”

“Yes, you can. Come on, if we do this with you lying down, you’re definitely gonna end up with sand in your gash.”

The threat of chafing is enough to make Steve fight against the agony. Steve is misery incarnate as he uncurls and forces his body upright. Eddie keeps his right hand back and out of the way, trying his best to stabilize Steve with just the left.

Steve lets out pained little noises as they work together to shove both Steve’s jeans and his underwear down with no ceremony. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s done it a few times or if it’s the alcohol, but Eddie no longer feels weird about what he’s about to do. He taps at his inner thigh until Steve widens his stance.

“Please hurry,” Steve begs, his voice high and desperate, threaded with distress. Eddie better get a hand in him before Steve gets any louder and his distress ends up calling over a bunch of strangers.

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, mostly to himself. He looks up at Steve, finds Steve staring down and wincing.

He strokes two fingers along his slit, parting him just enough that he feels slick start to dribble out, covering his fingertips. He sinks his fingers in right to the third knuckle.

Steve is already starting to lock, making it hard for Eddie to spread his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out and goes back in with three. Fucks him hard and steady to try and get him relaxed enough for more. Steve hunches over, stomach pressing against the top of Eddie’s head.

“Please, please,” he sobs.

Eddie reaches up and pets Steve's hip before his arm snakes around so that he can try and hold him steady. Grabbing a handful of Steve’s ass and squeezing.

He tries to press in with the fourth finger, but—

“Ah, fuck.”

Steve’s locked.

Steve wails, scrabbling at Eddie’s shoulders.

“Please, please, please,” he begs, words barely intelligible through the tears. “Eddie, hurts!”

Eddie pats Steve’s ass as he strokes at his slit. “Shh, shh. It’s okay, Steve. Relax; come on. Just relax for me.”

He knows that he shouldn’t, but Steve’s in agony, so Eddie starts teasing at Steve’s clit with his thumb. Keeps his fingertips poised and ready so that he can sink in when he gets a window. He knows that the stretch is going to hurt Steve, but it can’t be worse than his current agony.

Steve stands up straight and moves like he wants to step backwards and get away from Eddie. Probably curl up on the sand again.

But Eddie isn’t about to lose all their progress.

He tightens his grip on Steve’s ass, fingers stretching until the tip of his middle finger brushes against Steve’s asshole.

Steve gasps in between sobs, and Eddie feels him relax a little, but Eddie doesn’t move fast enough.

“Come on, Stevie, relax for me,” Eddie pleads, tucking his thumb to his palm and trying to press in as he keeps teasing over Steve’s asshole. “Let me in.”

Steve sobs again, trembling.

Fuck.

Eddie does the only thing he can think of and leans forward, pressing his nose to the soft skin of Steve’s mound before his tongue darts out to lap at his clit.

Steve inhales sharply at the first touch, but he moans long and loud when Eddie wraps his lips around him.

“Eddie!” Steve wails, bearing down at the same time that he finally relaxes just enough for Eddie to force his fingertips inside him.

He suckles on Steve’s clit, keeps him moaning to distract from the pain when he has to force his fist into him.

As soon as he’s buried up to the wrist, Steve locks down so tight that he’s scared he’s going to lose circulation.

He knows he doesn’t need to, now that he’s given Steve’s pussy something to cling to, but he keeps lapping at his clit. Ducks his chin so that he can tease his tongue where Steve is stretched tight around his wrist.

He knows he should stop, but he can’t bring himself to, not when Steve tastes so fucking good.

It’s—Jesus. It’s heaven to have Steve on his tongue. He feels starved, desperate. Ends up licking his own wrist for more now that Steve is locked so tight that no slick can drip out of him.

He only stops once a trembling hand is placed on the top of his head.

He pulls back, turning his face to wipe his mouth off on his bicep. Cheeks already burning when he realizes what he’s just done.

His eyes flick up to Steve’s face nervously, but Steve isn’t even looking at him. His head is tipped back, face up to the stars.

His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, his body slowly starting to relax. Starting to unlock.

Eddie’s extra gentle when he eases his hand out, already knows that Steve is going to be sore in the morning after this.

As soon as the widest part of his hand is free and the seal is broken, slick starts to leak out of Steve and down his forearm, getting him wet all the way to the elbow.

Eddie wants to lick it all up, but now that he’s out of the heat of the moment, he just feels extreme embarrassment at the thought. As soon as he’s sure Steve can hold his own weight and has helped him pull his jeans back up, he struggles to his feet and wanders down the shore. He crouches down and splashes his arm with seawater to rinse away Steve’s slick as his hindbrain howls miserably at the waste.

He takes a grounding breath before turning back to Steve.

“Alright, now let’s get you back home.”

—

Eddie’s woken up by a hand on his shoulder, rudely rousing him from sleep.

He grumbles, slapping it away.

The hand is not discouraged, hellbent on ripping him into the land of the living.

“Eddie,” he hears Steve whine. “Come onnnn.”

Eddie rolls onto his back, bringing both hands to his face and groaning. There’s a slight pounding in his skull, but it’s not too bad.

He groans before he lets his arms flop down to the mattress, then turns his head and glares at Steve where he’s perched on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah?” He rasps, his voice hoarse from misuse.

Steve holds out both hands, offering Eddie a bottle of water in one and two Advil in the palm of the other.

Eddie sits up slowly before he takes both.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes before he glares at Steve.

“Whaddyou want?”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Jesus, again?”

Steve pulls a face, opening and closing his mouth to mock Eddie before he rolls his eyes. “Yes, again. I just need your help so that I’ll be able to go to the pharmacy, okay? Then you won’t have to worry about doing it anymore.”

Huh, this is the last time he’s ever going to have to fist Steve. He’s not sure why something in his stomach twists at the thought.

“Can’t you wait until I’ve had some coffee?” He asks around a yawn.

“I’d rather do it sooner because, goddam dude, my vag is sore from last night. It feels like I’ve been fucked by a stallion.” He scrunches his nose in thought and shakes it away. “I can probably go make some coffee first, though.”

Eddie nearly falls asleep again in the time it takes Steve to leave and come back with two cups of coffee, but he wakes up when the bed dips beside him.

He forces his eyes open, hands out to accept his mug.

“Just gimme five minutes, and then we’ll get you fisted,” he sighs into his cup.

Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie props his head up on his palm, lying on his side next to Steve as Steve catches his breath, pussy spasming around his hand. Steve has one foot flat on the mattress; the hand he’d used to play with his clit now resting on his stomach.

It feels strangely normal somehow. Maybe now that he’s tasted Steve—something neither of them have been brave enough to acknowledge—it doesn’t feel weird having his fist buried inside him.

He feels almost mournful when Steve starts to relax, his body going soft enough for him to start easing out.

His hand slips free, followed by a stream of slick that drips down onto his duvet. Steve lowers his leg and wriggles his toes.

“Fuck, I should've laid down a towel,” Eddie says, looking up at Steve’s face to see if he’s pissed about the bedding possibly being ruined.

But Steve’s attention is focused on something else.

Eddie slept in nothing but his boxers last night, and he didn’t bother putting on anything else before they started, which should’ve been fine, but it’s only when Steve snorts that he realizes his error.

“Jesus, dude," Steve breathes, staring at Eddie's crotch. Where his dick is hard and straining, tucked down the left leg of his boxers.

He realizes that Steve probably has no idea that he’s been hard every time they’ve done this, thanks to his hindbrain going crazy from being so close to his pussy.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Eddie deflects.

“Oh no, I’m going to flatter myself. I can’t believe I made you hard.”

Eddie responds to Steve’s suffocating smugness by rolling his eyes.

Eddie pushes himself to sit up, then wipes his hand off on the duvet before he can do something stupid like lick his fingers clean. ”You didn’t make me hard; your pussy did.”

Steve sucks his teeth. "Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

Eddie stops wiping down his fingers to lift his head, winking at Steve. “You love me.”

Steve brings his right leg to his chest, stretching out his hamstrings. No longer shy about the way that he’s opening himself up for Eddie to see.

“Nope, I hate you.”

Hand satisfactorily clean, Eddie puts his focus back on Steve. His eyes automatically dip down to where he’s wet and swollen and well-fucked.

“Tell that to your pussy.”

He’s not sure what compels him to do it, but his hand flies through the air. Punctuates his statement by landing a light smack between Steve’s legs, right over his sensitive clit.

Steve gasps. Eddie gasps.

He pulls his hand back to his body and looks down. Watches the way Steve’s cunt clenches around nothing.

“Shit, Steve, I—”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. He adjusts his grip on the back of his thigh, keeping himself spread rather than slamming his thighs together.

“Steve, I don’t know why—I just. I’m so—”

“Eddie!” Steve repeats, more urgent. Eddie looks up at his face, where he’s still propped up against the pillows. His eyes are wide. “Can—could you do that again?”

“Huh?” Eddie says, but his body is ahead of his brain. Hand already moving, catching Steve’s clit with a wet smack. This time, he keeps his hand where it lands. Can feel Steve firming up against his fingers. “Shit! Sorry! I don’t know why I did that.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, soft and strained now. “Shit, I don’t—I’m sorry, is this? Oh shit, I—”

Eddie knows he should take his hand away, but he can’t move. He breathes heavily as he feels Steve clench around nothing.

“What, Steve?”

Steve shakes his head like he’s trying to think clearly.

“Is this...is this weird? Would this be weird? If I asked... If you.”

Eddie swallows thickly. “You want me... to slap your pussy?”

Steve swallows a soft moan, and it’s only then Eddie realizes that his fingers have been straying again. Rubbing gently at Steve’s little clit as the hood starts to pull back.

He looks down at his hand and knows he should stop. He doesn’t.

“Oh fuck, it’s weird, isn’t it? This is weird, right?”

Eddie swallows thickly, forcing his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He tries to soften the hunger he’s certain must be obvious in his eyes, smiling.

“Steve, I just had my hand inside you. I don’t think spanking your honey pot is weirder.”

Honey pot, Steve repeats to himself in disbelief, eyes flicking up to the ceiling before he looks back at Eddie. “Yeah, but… That was, like, necessary. I needed your help for that. This is just because it—fuck, you know.”

“I mean, maybe?” There is some sense to that. Eddie was just offering a hand, being a pal. But, “Isn’t this necessary, too? You know. Gotta finish what I started.”

He rubs a little harder.

“Eddie,” Steve moans. His hips start to twitch, grinding up against his touch.

“And I’m here already, you know? Makes no difference to me.”

Steve whines, pouts. “But. You don’t need to do this.”

‘Yeah, and I didn’t need to fist you either. Now come on, you want me to keep going?” Steve nods. “Okay, then keep those legs open for me.

Steve must be really feeling it because Steve is the only person he knows who is more stubborn than him, but he gives in. He pulls his other thigh to his chest.

It doesn’t feel weird when he brings his hand down again, when he lingers. He knows it should, but it doesn’t. It feels right somehow. Staring into his best friend’s eyes as he slaps his pussy.

He knows that Steve likes his partners to be gentle, and Eddie usually hears sweet, lovey-dovey bullshit through the wall, but Steve is staring up at him like he’s the second-coming as Eddie slaps him right over his hole. Gasping and moaning so pretty, jolting from the shock of each blow.

Eddie would usually go harder, be meaner, but he’s keeping it sweet for Steve. Honestly, he finds that it comes naturally. The tenderness.

“That good, Steve?” He asks softly, fingers tracing up and down his slit as he gives him a little break. “You need some more?”

Steve makes a sound in his throat and doesn’t meet his eye when he nods.

“That’s okay, Steve. Thanks for telling me.”

He spanks his pussy again, working his way up until he’s going as hard as he can at this angle. Hard enough that he can tell Steve is fighting to keep his legs held to his chest as he cries out.

“Harder,” Steve moans, eyes squeezed shut.

Eddie hits him again, tracing light fingers around his clit afterwards. “You want it harder, Stevie?”

Steve nods, his face all pinched up when he finally meets Eddie’s eye. The warm hazel is almost consumed by black, his cheeks flushed.

Eddie pets over his clit once more before he sits back.

“Okay, sweetheart. Think we need to change positions if you want it harder.”

Steve is slow in his movement when he lowers his legs and sits up. He blinks slowly and watches as Eddie rearranges the pillows against the headboard so that he can sit back against them, legs spread.

He pats his thighs, hand so close to touching where his dick is starting to leak onto his own thigh. He exhales slowly before dragging his eyes up to look at Steve.

Steve’s eyes are glued to Eddie’s cock, his lower lip sucked into his wet mouth. He’s only snapped out of it when Eddie reaches into his underwear and adjusts himself so that his cock is trapped under the elastic waistband instead.

He clears his throat. ”You wanna come sit?”

Steve nods quickly before scrambling into place between Eddie’s thighs. Eddie places a hand on his sternum, guiding him to lie back against his chest. Sandwiching his cock between them.

Eddie ducks his head, moaning against Steve’s shoulder.

“Fuck, okay,” he rasps, shaking his head to try and find clarity. “Spread your legs.”

Steve does as told, legs pressed along Eddie’s inner thighs. Eddie keeps his left hand splayed on Steve’s belly while he pulls his right back.

Brings it down fast, the resulting smack! deafening. New position allowing his hits to be punishing.

Steve gasps, his thighs snapping shut around Eddie’s wrist.

“Legs open, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, his legs opening slowly.

Eddie means to hit him twice in quick succession, but Steve’s thighs snap shut again, trapping his hand in place.

Eddie tuts. “I told you to keep your legs open, Stevie. Do you need some help?”

He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer; he goes right ahead and hooks his legs over Steve’s and plants his feet on the mattress. So that when he spreads his legs, Steve is forced to follow.

He’s tempted to kiss Steve’s shoulder, but instead he just nuzzles at his scent gland. Just like when they were pups.

He cups his hand around Steve’s pussy, feeling it twitch. Drooling slick. Getting his fingers wet enough that the next blow is hard enough that Eddie’s hand stings.

Steve cries out, his legs trying to close but trapped in place by Eddie. His hands scrabble to grab handfuls of the duvet, his back arching when Eddie lands three more blows in quick succession.

Steve tries to hunch forward, but Eddie just pulls him back. Refuses to let him escape as he slaps him again and again.

Steve sobs, bucking in his hold. Eddie hisses when he grinds up against his cock, forehead dropping to rest on Steve’s shoulder.

He keeps his hand cupped over Steve’s cunt as he nuzzles his gland again, rewarded with a sharp burst of bliss.

“How you feeling, Stevie? Want more?”

Steve mewls before he nods, melting back against Eddie’s chest. He smacks his lips together, trying to turn his head to see him.

“Empty,” he whines, grinding up against Eddie’s palm.

“Empty?”

Steve hums, bumping their foreheads together.

“Empty, Eddie.”

Eddie teases two fingers along his slit, parting him so that he can tease at his hole. “You want my fingers.”

Steve groans at the thought. “Fuck, yeah. Fingers, Eddie. Please fingers.”

Eddie slides his left hand down Steve’s stomach, replacing his right hand when he sinks two fingers into him. He curls them, hooking inside him and stroking over where he’s tender.

Steve’s legs try to kick out as Eddie teases soft little whimpers out of him.

“Want me to keep going?”

Steve nods; he can’t even speak. Can only moan when Eddie angles his left hand to open up his clit, allowing Eddie to smack him again.

Steve yelps, pussy spasming around him as Eddie stimulates him inside and out. He jolts against Eddie’s chest with each subsequent slap, even though Eddie can’t go quite as hard as he was, not when his left hand is in the way.

Eddie lands his next slap to Steve’s left inner thigh, then matches it on his right. Repeats fast and sharp until Steve’s soft skin blushes pink.

Steve hunches forward to try and protect himself, and rather than try to pull him back, Eddie lets him go. He needs to get a hand down between them so that he can shove it into his underwear and curl his fingers around the base of his cock. Squeezing tight enough to hurt so that he can pull himself back from the edge.

He collapses against the pillows and catches his breath before he pulls Steve back against him. Thinks fuck it and kisses his shoulder softly.

Instead of going back to slapping his cunt, Eddie starts to fuck his fingers into him faster, using his other hand to rub at Steve’s clit. Hard, just like how Steve touches himself.

“Eddie!” Steve chokes out, squirming in his hold. He yanks on the duvet cover helplessly with his right hand, his left reaching back to grab onto the headboard.

He arches his back, fucking his hips up against Eddie’s hands.

He’s so wet that Eddie barely hears it when he gasps again, followed by a miserable little, “Eddie, please.”

He noses up the side of his neck, feels light-headed from the sweetness in Steve’s scent. He brushes his lips against the shell of Steve’s ear as he presses against Steve’s g-spot.

“You gonna cum?” He asks softly, fingers never faltering. He’s wet down to the wrist again. Steve whines and nods, fucking his hips into Eddie’s hand. “That’s okay, Stevie. You can cum if you need to.”

He might’ve taken a fist half an hour ago, but Steve latches on to two fingers beautifully. Dripping everywhere as Eddie curls his fingers and fucks up against Steve’s spot so that his voice gets all high.

“Just like that, Stevie. Doing so well.”

“Gonna cum, Eddie.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Whenever you need to.”

For the last little push, Eddie pulls back and lands one last slap to his clit.

Steve’s hip buck, his whole body spasming like he’s on a mechanical bull. Eddie’s hands are busy, so he can’t grab onto him and keep him still, not unless he wants to ruin his orgasm. Instead, he hunches forward and follows Steve. Stays pressed up against his back so that Steve can’t escape him when he keeps playing with his clit and fucking into him.

Eddie gentles his touch as Steve comes down, easing his fingers off of him before he slowly pulls his fingers out. He catches the trickle of Steve’s slick on his fingers and fucks it back into him before withdrawing his hands completely.

He releases Steve’s legs, resting his hands on his own thighs. Wants to give Steve the freedom to flee if he starts to feel regret now that he's reached his peak.

Eddie tries to slow his breathing, his cock starting to soften from nerves. Terrified that Steve’s going to turn around and say that they can’t be friends anymore.

He’s not sure how long they sit in silence, but it’s long enough for his heart rate to drop back to normal, for his sweat to cool.

He tenses up when Steve clears his throat. Heart rate shooting right back up.

“Eddie?”

He gulps. “Yeah Stevie?”

Silence. His heartbeat rings in his ears.

He listens as Steve licks his lips, his breath catching when one of Steve’s hands gently covers his own.

“Eddie,” he says again. Soft, shy again. “Will you fuck me?”

Eddie blinks, his head reeling back so that he can stare at the back of Steve’s head. “Huh?

Steve laughs softly, uncertain.

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s middle and squeezes, nodding against his shoulder as his dick starts to perk up again.

“Shit, yeah—yes, Steve. God, please, can I fuck you?”

Steve’s next laugh is more familiar to his ears: a sweet giggle, followed by a cringe when Eddie’s hair starts to tickle him.

“Fuck,” Eddie spits. He can’t wipe the smile off his face as Steve untangles himself from Eddie’s arms, and Eddie can see his face again. Can see how his eyes sparkle.

Eddie remembers what Steve said, about wanting to see his partner when he’s getting knotted, so Eddie scrambles out of his seat and refluffs the pillows.

He hops off the bed while Steve lies down in his vacated seat. Lower lip sucked into his mouth again as he watches Eddie kick off his underwear.

Steve’s obviously seen his dick before, thanks to a childhood of shared bath times and an adulthood of shared living space, but it’s his first time seeing Eddie naked like this. Hard and straining, already wet at the tip. Eddie can’t help preening at the way Steve's eyes darken.

He brings a knee up onto the foot of the bed and pauses.

“Are you sure about this?”

Steve just rolls his eyes. “Yes, Eddie. I’m sure.”

And just to drive his point home, he bends his knees and places his feet flat on the bed, spreading his legs. Inviting Eddie to climb up onto the bed and crawl between them.

Eddie sits down on his heels, shuffling forward until the backs of Steve’s thighs press against his legs.

He wets the seam of his lips, eyes transfixed by the sight of Steve’s pussy. Flushed dark and swollen from use, practically begging to be fucked.

Eddie wraps a hand around himself, giving his cock a tight stroke to ease the tension. He has to squeeze himself again to make sure that he won’t cum the second he gets inside him.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes, eyes wide as he watches.

Eddie grins, teasing his foreskin over the tip and squeezing so that his pre bubbles up and drools from his tip. A clear strand dripping down, directly onto Steve. Steve inhales shakily.

He pulls his foreskin back, then leans forward, guiding his cock down to slide along Steve’s slit. From the bottom, then up to nudge at his clit. Repeating the motion but pressing down harder so that he spreads Steve open. Spreading slick along the underside of his cock.

In an ideal world, he'd tease Steve for hours. Work him up until he’s sobbing and tearing at his hair, begging Eddie to fuck him.

But as is, he’s too worked up and impatient. He rests one hand on the mattress beside Steve’s ribs and leans forward so that he nudges against Steve’s entrance.

He presses his cockhead into Steve, then pulls out. Forward and back, forward and back. Fucks him with just the tip.

He's desperate to be inside him, but he just has to ask one last time. He swallows thickly, eyes fixed on where Steve's all pink and pretty and open.

“Should we stop?” Eddie asks, words strained from the effort of not fucking in deeper.

Steve groans.

“Do you wanna stop?” He doesn’t look at Eddie when he speaks, keeps staring down between his legs. Flexes his hips up to try and get him deeper.

Eddie pulls out and slides the tip along the length of Steve’s slit again. “No,” he answers. Rubs his dick up against his little clit so that Steve moans softly. His eyes flick up to Steve’s face. “Do you?”

Steve shakes his head and drags his eyes away from the spectacle to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“No.”

Eddie nods to himself. He thinks about slapping Steve’s pussy with his dick, but he’s pretty sure Steve would kick him reflexively after what he’s already suffered. Instead, he just watches as his cockhead bumps against Steve’s clit again. Can feel Steve’s cunt clench where it’s pressed to the underside of his length.

He swallows thickly. Guides his cock back to Steve’s hole and stops moving. Keeping Steve spread open on the tip. “Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

“Please.”

Eddie has heard Steve fucking thanks to three years of living together and the thin walls in their apartment—plus the three times he made him cum yesterday—but he’s never heard Steve sound like that. All soft and breathless.

He looks up at Steve’s face one more time, scanning for hesitation or regret. When he finds none, he starts to press forward. Sinks into Steve’s little pussy, nice and slow.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, tinged with disbelief. Moans softly as Eddie drives forward, until he’s buried to the root. Fully wrapped in the warmth of Steve’s body.

He lowers himself down, propped up on his elbows to get closer. Manages to sink into Steve even deeper.

As soon as Eddie’s in grabbing distance, Steve wraps his arms around his neck.

“Jesus, Steve. You’re so—you’re so fucking wet.”

Steve tightens his arms around Eddie, forehead pressing against his shoulder. He can feel him breathing against his skin.

Eddie wants to move. Needs to. He fucks into Steve four times, quick and deep. Just to take the edge off so he can go completely still after. Giving Steve a moment to adjust.

He leans his weight into his left forearm, so he can lift his right hand and pet the back of Steve’s head.

“Hey, you alright?”

Steve nods, a little whimper coming out. Eddie keeps petting his hair before he pulls softly. Guides Steve to flop back against the pillows so he can see his face.

Steve blinks up at him, his eyes shiny.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Steve’s arms tighten around him, his legs coming up to wrap around Eddie’s hips. Keeping him buried. “S’jus…a lot. Good, but God. Can feel you in my throat.”

“Oh, okay.” He pauses for a moment, then, “You feel really good, by the way. Like, really fucking good.”

Steve smiles. Blinks slowly. “So do you.”

And god, then Steve clenches around him.

Eddie moans, pulling out slowly before he rocks back into him. Knocking a grunt out of Steve.

Fucks into him deep. Deep enough that he feels his cock bump up against something firm.

Steve gasps, his hips flinching away. His nails dig into his biceps.

“Sorry,” Eddie pants, lips hovering just above Steve’s. So close. So fucking close. He could just—

“No, no, do it again. Please, again.”

Eddie’s rhythm falters, and Steve whines in response. Tightens his legs around Eddie’s hips and starts trying to fuck himself onto Eddie. God, he’s so wet, so hot, so fucking good.

Steve looks desperate. Eddie doesn’t want to hurt him, but he asked for Eddie to do it again, so he does. Fucks in as deep as he can, nudging up against the wall of his cervix with each stroke.

Steve gasps again, squirming underneath him. Torn between fleeing and running headfirst.

“Don’t stop,” Steve breathes, his eyes half-lidded and dark. He’s drooling. He’s so fucking wet.

Eddie nods, breathless. “How’s it feel?” He hardly recognizes his own voice.

“Hurts,” Steve gasps, lifting his hips to meet Eddie each time. “Sore. Feels so good. Don’t know why. Fucking hurts, Eddie. Please don’t stop.”

Eddie nods, stomach flexing from the effort of keeping his strokes even. He wants Steve to feel the stretch as he fucks him slowly, hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. Squeezing perfect little whines from his pretty mouth each time Eddie bumps his cervix.

He sounds pained, but his face is pure bliss. Scent sweet and happy as Eddie starts to go harder, picking up his pace so that his hips start to slap against the soft skin where Steve’s ass meets his thigh. He wants to leave him bruised. Wants to make sure that no matter what happens, Steve will have a reminder of how good Eddie made him feel.

Steve hikes his legs up, locking his ankles together as his thighs squeeze either side of Eddie’s waist.

“Eddie,” Steve whimpers.

He nuzzles Eddie’s cheek before he turns his head, and before Eddie can blink, there are soft lips pressed against his. Steve brings a hand up to cradle Eddie’s jaw before he pulls back with a gasp.

”Shit! I’m so sorry, Eddie! I don’t know what—”

But then it’s Eddie’s turn to cut him off. Surging forward and knocking Steve flat onto the pillows so that he can pin him down and kiss him again.

Because what the fuck?

He pulls back and stares down at Steve.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit!”

“What the fuck? Holy shit?”

Eddie kisses him again. “What the fuck,” he says against his lips.

“Eddie, I—ew, what the fuck? What’s happening?”

Eddie presses their foreheads together, laughing against Steve’s lips.

“Ew? What the fuck do you mean, ew?” He kisses him again, smiling into it. ”Fuck, Stevie. Of course, it’s you. Of course it’s fucking you.”

“I can’t—fuck! Can’t believe that it’s you, Ed. Can’t believe it’s you. You’re the one. What the fuck?”

Eddie giggles into their next kiss, cradling Steve’s jaw. Holy fuck.

It’s incredible, because it’s not like he feels any different. It’s not like he’s seeing something new in Steve. It just feels like he’s opened his eyes, then opened them again.

It’s still Steve, but it’s Steve.

Steve's his soulmate.

It’s weird. It should be weird. It should be more weird. It’s Steve. It’s his best friend; it’s Steve. But fuck, it feels right. Feels so good. Fucking him, holding him. It’s Steve. Steve's his sweetheart, his darling, his baby. Steve's his fucking soulmate!

“Oh my god,” Steve breathes, voice soft. “Oh my god!”

Steve pulls back so that he can start dotting kisses all over Eddie’s face, squeezing him between his thighs. He brushes Eddie’s hair out of his face and beams up at him.

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie breathes, at the same time that Steve says,

“I love you so much.”

Eddie has to kiss him again, bumping their noses together.

With the way Steve keeps giggling, his body keeps tensing up and relaxing. Clenching around Eddie’s cock, until he can’t help but start rocking into him again.

Steve pulls back, pressing one last kiss to Eddie’s lips before he sags back into the pillows.

Eddie’s hands find Steve’s, lacing their fingers together and pinning his hands down as he starts to fuck him again. Wants to make his soulmate feel good.

He feels frantic as he pins Steve down, fucking into him faster and harder. He feels so good, like this is what he was made for. Born to take Eddie’s cock.

Another giddy laugh bubbles out as he looks down at his precious boy.

“Made for me,” he chokes out, eyes focused on his darling. “Fuck, baby. So fucking perfect. Wanna fuck you always, Stevie. Never wanna leave your pussy.”

Steve’s eyes roll back at that, mouth open as his moan is spliced with glittering laughter. So beautiful that Eddie has to kiss him again.

His body is starting to ache from the effort, but he hardly feels it. Only cares about making his boy feel good. He can feel his knot start to swell, can’t stop the soft whimpers he kisses into Steve’s mouth each time it bumps up against Steve.

Fuck. He’s going to knot his soulmate for the first time.

He can feel the end in sight; he can feel the tug behind his navel. Keeps edging closer and closer, but is devoted to making Steve get there first.

He can feel Steve draw tighter and tighter, his body gearing up to lock as slick drools out of him steadily. He feels the way Steve’s hips buck every time his knot nudges against him.

He can feel it. So close. So fucking close—

“Eddie!” Steve gasps. “Eddie, wait—” he cuts off with a moan.

Eddie shakes his hair out of his face. “Baby?”

Steve grits his teeth and whines, verging on miserable, when he untangles his right hand from Eddie’s grip and pushes at his shoulder weakly.

“I think I need to pee, oh my God. Hold on, need to get up. Need to—oh my god!”

Eddie’s brow furrows as he tries to understand, his body running on instinct as he keeps fucking into him.

“Don’t care; doesn’t matter. Don’t care, Steve. Never wanna stop fucking you.”

Steve arches up into him, his moans climbing higher. He spasms around Eddie, clenching like he’s close. He feels so good. He feels so good.

Steve’s stomach flexes. He’s so wet, so tight. He pushes Eddie’s chest, but Eddie can’t, he can’t.

“Eddie,” Steve squeaks, slapping his chest once more before his hand squeezes between their bodies. “Eddie, please, don’t wanna piss on you.”

Eddie holds himself back from admitting how unopposed he is to that and instead gathers all his willpower to stop. He pushes himself up onto his hands and fucks into Steve twice more before he goes to pull out, but Steve clenches tight enough that it forces Eddie out of his body. Makes him sit back on his heels.

Before Eddie can apologize, he feels wet. Looks down and watches as Steve squirts onto his cock.

Steve cries out, his back arching, before his fingers start to rub furiously over his twitching clit until he squirts again.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, oh my god. I don’t—Eddie!” Steve yelps.

Eddie feels a growl build in his chest. “Oh my god,” he agrees, already leaning back over Steve and stuffing his cock back into him. He can feel the way Steve pulses, but his pussy doesn’t lock. Not yet.

Eddie fucks him hard and deep while Steve scrubs over his clit, pulling out when Steve clenches again. Watching Steve gush over his cock.

He repeats once more, pulling out one last time and watching as a last, tiny bit of slick gushes out before he sinks back in. Fucks him hard and fast, leaning into his elbows as Steve surges up to kiss him weakly. One hand gripping onto his bicep, the other clawing up his back.

“Never done that before,” Steve says when they break apart, melting back into the bed. Fuck.

Eddie groans, burying himself deep and nudging his cervix, so Steve’s sounds get all high and whiny from the blissful pain. He can't believe he's the first person to make Steve Harrington squirt.

Steve blinks up at him, mouth pulled up at the corners when it falls open. Slight pinch between his brows as Eddie walks him along the edge of overstimulation.

Eddie adjusts his grip, curling his fingers around Steve’s hips and pinning him to the mattress so he can double down and fuck him harder. He keeps going as the pressure builds and Steve’s cunt tries to latch onto him, now gushing with slick on every thrust. Still not locking, though.

He fucks him until the mattress is soaked and Steve goes boneless. Eyes crossed and mouth hanging open so that Eddie can hear all his little noises unfiltered. So far gone, so out of it. It must hurt; Eddie’s sure of it. It must be verging on too much, having his pussy fucked so thoroughly as Eddie tries to push him over the edge, but finds himself unable to deliver the final push.

Eddie’s so close it hurts, ready to pop. He wanted to see to his boy first, but he can feel that if he doesn’t get his knot in Steve now, he won’t be able to get it in at all. Honestly, he knows he should’ve done it sooner, but he knows his sweetheart can handle the stretch.

He lowers down onto his elbows, dipping to brush a kiss against Steve’s slack lips. He smiles down at him and gets the most beautiful smile back in return. Pure sunshine.

“I love you, baby,” Eddie breathes, grinding his knot up against Steve’s entrance. “Love you so much.”

He starts to push forward, forcing his knot in bit by bit. Feeling Steve stretch to take him, body fighting until it yields beautifully.

Opening up so that, finally, Eddie’s knot pops inside of him.

And then Steve finally locks. His back arches, hips jerking as he writhes underneath Eddie. Bucks hard when he cums, like his body is so overwhelmed by pleasure that it’s trying to get Eddie off of him.

Eddie lets himself collapse on top of his Stevie, meeting him in a kiss and happily swallowing his gorgeous sounds.

When Eddie wakes up again, he’s holding the same hand that woke him earlier. Fingers laced together as he cuddles up behind his soulmate.

He ruts his hips forward against what woke him up this time: his angel’s perfect ass, grinding back against him until his dick decided needing to cum was more important than sleep.

Eddie smacks his lips, no idea what the time is, as he ruts against Steve’s ass until Steve arches his back.

“You’re awake!” He chirps, wiggling his hips. “I missed you.”

Eddie kisses his shoulder blade, squeezes his hand. “Missed you too, Stevie.”

Steve snorts. “You’re so cheesy.”

Eddie would argue if he were more awake, but as is, he gently untangles their hands for just a second. Angles his cock down so that he can fuck into the small triangle of space at the tops of Steve's thighs, rubbing up against his slit.

Eddie’s hand seeks out its partner again. Feels something settle in his chest once his fingers are laced with Steve’s. He squeezes before thrusting lazily.

Steve’s wet; Eddie can feel it. Not sure if he’s still wet or already wet. Doesn’t matter. His cunt drools onto Eddie. Begging for something to lock onto.

Steve pushes back against him.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, making sure that his cock bumps up against Steve’s clit.

Steve sighs happily. “Good.”

“Heat broken?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, pressing back against Eddie. “Heat’s over.”

Eddie rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder and grinds up so that his tip nudges Steve's entrance. He teases him by pressing in and then pulling back.

“So this... We don’t need to do this?”

“No. Want to, though. Please.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you again, baby?”

Steve hums. “Want my soulmate to breed me.”

Eddie presses into him slowly, sinking his teeth into his neck. He hopes that one day, he’ll bite him on the other side. Claim him for life.

Steve sighs happily, rocking back against him. Brings their joined hands up to his face so he can kiss Eddie’s knuckles.

“Can’t believe I found my soulmate on our slutty boys trip.”

“I can’t believe I found my soulmate in Bitter fucking Beach.”