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Eddie was hiiiiiiiiigh. The joint he had smoked in his van on the way here didn’t so much ‘hit’ as it gently rolled over him, causing his eyelids to droop, his vision to become unfocused, and a goofy smile to spread across his face. Eddie liked parties like this, a bunch of rich preppy upperclassmen wanting to play pretend at acting out. It was cute, the unbuttoned polos and yacht khakis, the thousand-dollar watches on the unseasonably tanned wrists. He had no idea how he had been invited, but it was the den of a suburban cookie cutter house and a girl in a tennis skirt and a neon green scrunchie in her blonde curls had handed him a red solo cup with chilled vodka, so he couldn’t complain. She had wrinkled her nose when she handed it to him, but he didn’t mind.
Eddie knew what people said about him. It wasn’t kind, but only a fool expects kindness from the specimen known as assholian jockus. In any case, he didn’t mind sitting on a chenille sectional watching these odd birds perform their mating dances. It was warm and Eddie regretted wearing his jean-leather combo jacket. Shifting, he relaxed further into the couch, spreading his coal-colored-jean-clad legs just slightly. His wallet chain clinked with the movement. He liked people watching when he was like this. The lights got a bit fuzzy, his peers looked softer around the edges. It made him feel lighter. More free. His reverie was broken when someone sat next to him. He glanced at her, noting the sharp eye makeup, dyed dark hair, and revealing shirt. Objectively, she was gorgeous.
Sometimes Eddie wished he looked like that. Not necessarily like a woman, just… like someone the men that caught his eye would want. He sometimes found himself wishing he had hungry eyes on him, wishing they regarded him the way a fox looks at a rabbit. Like a piece of meat. Unfortunately, the kinds of men that lit Eddie’s insides on fire weren’t really the type. Their most erotic fantasies included the squeals and bouncing tits of cheerleaders. Lost in thought, Eddie missed what the girl in front of him said.
“Sorry?” He mumbled. His voice always came out lower when he was stoned. A low, light giggle fell from her.
“I just said my name is Sabrina. You’re Eddie Munson, right?”
“The very same. Are you in…” his mind faltered and he exhaled, squeezing one eye shut.
“Foreign economics, third period.” Sabrina supplied.
“Right!” Eddie laughed. “Can’t believe you recognize me, I think I’ve skipped more of those classes than I’ve attended.”
“You’re very noticeable.” Sabrina said, blinking at him slowly. Eddie smiled, looking away uncomfortably. As his gaze slid across the room it caught on another pair of eyes. That was unusual, normally he goes entirely unnoticed at events like this. Rarely is he perceived, and never longer than an uncomfortable glance. “I’m sorry, that was forward.” Sabrina laughed. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I totally get it, though, Mr. Reeves is a total snoozefest.”
Eddie’s eyes adjusted to the ones locked in on his as he gave Sabrina an affirmative hum. No fucking way. What could he have possibly done to get the King of Hawkins High to stare him down. He was zoned in, too. There was an intensity in his deep, brown eyes. His expression was impossible to read, but he wasn’t blinking. Eddie knew that logically he should be nervous. Steve Harrington had fists of steel and had already sharpened his knuckles on Eddie’s jawbone twice that month. What Eddie had said to deserve it wasn’t relevant. His chin still ached from the previous beating, so why was the searing eye-contact sending a sharp feeling down his spine and pooling hotly in his stomach? Was it the humidity of teenaged bodies or was his face getting warm? Abruptly and without warning, King Steve turned and strode out the sliding door, stepping out onto the unpopulated porch.
“Hey, Sabrina?” Eddie interrupted his new friend’s ramblings. “I’ll see you in class, okay?” He started to rise.
“Oh… yeah, sure!” She responded.
“I’ll make sure I swing by just for you, sweetheart.” He said over his shoulder. Eddie wasn’t sure what made him follow Steve Harrington into the dark. It probably wasn’t best practice, but the deck was completely empty save for the other man who had rolled his ridiculous cashmere sweater’s sleeves up and was leaning over the railing smoking a Marlboro red. It was really hot. When else was he going to get a chance to talk to the golden boy himself, star of Hawkins and master of making Eddie Munson feel invisible. Nobody was paying him any attention. Everyone was avoiding the glass door, preferring the cozy drunk canoodling indoors. It was almost certainly the weed moving him like a puppet, but even so, Eddie steeled himself and slid the door open, stepping onto cool wood he could feel through his tattered mismatched socks. He closed it behind him and the noise of mingling became a light hum.
“Munson.” Came the low greeting. Eddie shivered. Steve hadn’t even turned around. He shifted on his feet.
“Nice party, man.”
“Nice of you to show up. Thought you might be busy with your sucky band.” He smirked over his shoulder and held out the pack. Eddie huffed indignantly but still took a cigarette.
“Asshole.” He muttered, igniting it with a flick of his lighter and taking a drag.
“Or caught up in that freaky nerd game of yours.” Steve’s eyes trained lazily at Eddie, whose eyebrows furrowed.
“At least my hobbies are productive to society.” He shot back, and Steve snorted. “Rather music and boardgames than doing blow and slutting myself around.” It landed and the other man’s jaw tightened.
“I’d watch it, if I were you. Don’t forget who’s house you’re in.” Eddie’s stomach tightens at his words, and tightens further at the low, dangerous, quiet tone.
“Is that a threat, King Steve? Technically speaking, we’re not in your house. We’re on your patio.” He lets the words roll out of his mouth. His head was buzzing, a mix of the joint and the rush of talking to the academic, athletic, social wet dream that was Steve Harrington.
“It’s a good thing you’re here, Munson. I’ve been needing a fight.” Steve said. That hit Eddie’s quickly lowering inhibitions like a truck.
Healthily speaking, it probably wasn’t good that when Harrington shoved him into the wall of their school’s cafeteria, it had Eddie pink at the edges for the rest of the day. It wasn’t great that when he got grabbed and kneed in the stomach the spots where the other man’s hands had gripped him tingled late into the night. Not fantastic that the last time Steve had punched him so hard his nose bled Eddie had fucked his fist when he’s gotten home, cummed to the thought of the fire in Harrington’s eyes. It wasn’t the first time he had pictured the other man while stroking off, and it certainly hadn’t been the last. Sometimes Eddie had pictured Steve finding out about the way he touched himself. Recoiling in disgust. Calling Eddie a sick fuck. Spitting in his face. Wiping it off. Shoving his tongue down Eddie’s throat and replacing Eddie’s ringed fingers with his manicured ivy league palm. So maybe he felt his cock stir at the other man’s gaze. Angry. Disgusted. Repressed? Hungry?
“Pretty pathetic to schedule beating up on the freak. You get off on it or something?” Eddie fired back, pushing enough vitriol into his tone to make it clear it wasn’t a joke. Something imperceptible crossed Steve’s face. Suddenly, his hand darted out and grabbed the front of Eddie’s thrift store Metallica t-shirt. The sheer lack of effort it took to drag him closer had Eddie hardening as he scrabbled to grab Steve’s exposed (toned) forearm to steady himself. He couldn’t help cracking a grin. It was ridiculously easy to fire up preppy panties-in-a-bunch Harrington.
“Fucking faggot” The man growled. It came from the back of his throat and Eddie really shouldn’t find that hot because nobody was paying any attention to the deck and if he got the shit kicked out of him nobody here would know who to call. He shouldn’t find it hot because he’d never heard that word come out of Steve’s mouth before and it was way more hostile than the usual insults he tossed. He shouldn’t find it hot but weed made him horny and heady and so he laughed, brought his cigarette back to his mouth and took a long, contemplative drag. Pursing his lips, he blew the plume of smoke right into Steve's face.
“Takes one to know one.” Eddie whispered. It was a dangerous game. Usually, getting beat up at school just meant an extended stay on the nurse’s sofa holding an ice pack to your face. He spent so much time there that the nurse knew Eddie by name, as a matter of fact. This was different. He was enemy territory, and it was dark, and Steve smelled like cigarette smoke and Eddie wanted to get fucked one way or another. He met Steve’s eyes, watching them darken. Slowly, Steve lowered his dwindling smoke, putting it out in a crystal ashtray on the railing. He let his eyes fall close and inhaled deeply. Eddie was waiting for the clobber and was shocked when the other man opened his hand and let him stumble back to standing. “Wow, has King Steve been taking anger management classes?” He teased. And he really shouldn’t provoke, but truthfully he felt a little disappointed about the lack of reaction.
“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve said, calmly. Too calmly.
“Did daddy threaten to stop paying to spring you from Juvie and scrape your record clean?” Eddie took a half step towards Steve’s stiff form. “Or did mommy threaten to stop donating to–” and then two things happened in quick succession. Firstly, Steve drew back his hand and slapped Eddie across the face. Open palm, quick as a flash, and hard enough that he braced himself against the railing as his head snapped to the right. Entirely unexpectedly, when Eddie got hit he made a… noise. It was out of surprise, certainly, but there was a grunt behind it of pure satisfaction and it came out sounding like the shortest and most pathetic moan anyone had ever heard. Immediately they both froze. Eddie noticed another flash cross Steve’s gaze and before he could fight or fly or freeze the other man surged forward and kissed Eddie square on the mouth.
It only worked because Eddie wasn’t expecting it. Nowhere in his projections of this interaction had he pictured what was happening in real time, Steve Harrington grabbing him by the hips and pressing him into the railing, Steve Harrington kissing him with so much ferocity that they were both leaning dangerously over the edge. His mouth was hot and the taste of smoke had Eddie’s jaw going slack as he kissed the other man right back. Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t dreaming. He reached forward and grabbed the front of Harrington’s sweater, pulling him impossibly closer. His tongue slid into Eddie’s mouth and Eddie was convinced he must be dreaming because it was commanding and vicious and starved.
Eddie started to pull back for air, but right at that moment Steve slid his hands from Eddie’s love handles and snaked them under his t-shirt. He pressed his hips into Eddie’s and the pressure on the metalhead’s half-hard cock made him groan instinctively into Steve’s mouth. Panting, Eddie pulled back, a damning string of saliva following his mouth’s movement.
“What the hell are you doing?” He breathed, but his voice betrayed him as it came out rough and wanton.
“I’m putting you in your fucking place.” Steve retorted. His pupils were blown out but his eyes were narrowed. He looked like a hunter, and the feeling of being prey sent sparks to Eddie’s bulge. Slowly, experimentally, he grinded forward against Steve’s own increasingly prominent crotch. The other man’s mouth fell open and without missing a beat Eddie surged forward and took it with his own. It was messy and horny and angry and a kiss that contained literal years of pent up aggression and hostility. To drive the point home, Eddie sharply bit Steve’s lower lip. Shockingly, it jolted the other man’s hands into motion sliding up Eddie’s back. He wasn’t being gentle, but the touch was almost tender. When he reached Eddie’s shoulder blades, though, he dug in his fingernails and dragged them down in a swift movement. The pain was sharp and burning and the corresponding sound Eddie made was low but nearly pornographic. He felt Steve’s dick twitch through his stupid slacks. God. If he was feeling what he thought he was feeling then Steve had a thick fucking cock. No wonder he had the easier girls practically spreading their legs for him in high school. Eddie passively wondered how many women the other man had pressed into, hands holding down their shaking thighs as he buried himself as deep as he could and pictured he was fucking a man instead. He wondered if he ignored their performative moans or bare breasts and held their arms down while thrusting into their tight holes. Eddie wondered if Steve came picturing the freak himself under his body.
“Put me in my place? Oh, sweetheart.” And with that Eddie slid his hand up Steve’s neck until it was nestled in his waxed hair. Before the other man could retort, he clenched his fist, yanking hard. A groan of pleasure spilled from his lips and Eddie could practically hear his own heart pounding in his ears. Eddie’s other hand trailed down Harrington’s chest, and slowly unbuckled his leather belt. He made quick work of the button and fly, and reached out to dip his pinkie finger below the rim of the Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He pulled it taught and let it snap against Steve’s abdominals. Before he could go any further, his wrist was caught sharply in the other man’s hand. He was getting dragged out of sight of the door. Eddie tried not to let on how bad it was affecting him, but when Steve shoved him up against the house’s rough siding, pinned his captured wrists over his head with just one hand, and kissed him rough, Eddie wondered briefly if he had died and gone to heaven. The thought intensified as Steve’s hand slid under his shirt again, surpassing his stomach to gently brush his nipple. He squeezed and Eddie’s hips jumped, grinding their crotches flush against one another again.
“You really don’t know when to shut your fucking mouth, do you?” Steve said, pulling his face barely an inch back. Eddie grinned, the other man’s lip was swollen and his eyes were practically saucers.
“Don’t pretend that you’re not loving this, Stevie. You’re hard as a rock.” The other man grunted and Eddie’s smile stretched even wider. “You like it when I talk down to you? You like getting a taste of your own shitty medicine? Maybe I should beat you up sometime, see how you like it.” Steve let go of his wrists, flexing his hand. He was seriously considering hitting Eddie again. Eddie saw his chance and grabbed the other man’s still undone trousers and pushed them out of the way before resting his hand on Steve’s achingly hard cock, their skin separated by a thin layer of cotton. He gave an experimental stroke and the other man practically whined.
“You really don’t know when to shut up.” Steve repeated, but the fight was faltering as he was made weak by Eddie’s rough callused rubbing.
“Yeah? Fucking make me then.” He challenged. Steve grunted and pushed his mouth back onto Eddie’s. He had been holding back, but the gates opened and he kissed the man like he was trying to tear him to shreds. Experimentatally, Eddie reached into his underwear and wrapped his hand around Steve’s cock. Christ Alive, he was big. A bit shorter than Eddie but with more girth, weight, and a prominent throbbing vein that pulsed against Eddie’s palm. He jerked his hand experimentally and Harrington let out a whine so desperate it had to be involuntary. Eddie pulled back and brought his hand out of the other man’s shorts and up to his mouth. Without warning, he shoved his fingers in and watched with amazement as Steve obediently sucked. It was messy, saliva dripping from his chin, and that’s just how Eddie wanted it.
“Look at how fucking pathetic you are.” Eddie growled. His instinct was to be gentle, but a dull ache in his eyebrow and the memory of a bruised shin spurred a darker impulse. There were no lights on the deck and the party was sealed away. The only things Eddie could hear were crickets, the rustling of wind in the surrounding trees, and the wet sounds of Steve Harrington’s mouth. He pushed his fingers deeper, trying to brush the other man’s throat. “Is kissing a freak just like kissing a cheerleader? Or is it better?” He teased, letting a slight bitterness edge his tone. Feeling that his hand was wet enough, Eddie pulled it from Steve’s mouth, quickly replacing it with his lips. Ever the fighter, Steve shoved his head forward, kissing Eddie into the wall. Eddie’s hand, now slick, found Steve’s cock again. He rubbed it torturously slow, rolling his wrist with practice. He knew he was good at this, but was still gratified to hear the stifled moans and grunts against his mouth. Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening. Every inch of where his body met Harrington’s tingled with anticipation and a roar of lust. He felt like no matter how much the other man touched him it would never be enough. Nothing would make up for the years of torment he had been put through.
Actually… one thing might make up for the years of torment he had been put through.
With the hand not stroking Steve off, Eddie pulled the other man back by the hair. Steve’s composure was going fast, his eyes were only halfway open and he whined at the lack of Eddie’s mouth on his own. The whine turned more desperate when Eddie pulled his other hand out from Steve’s underwear, damp with saliva and precum. He put both palms flat on Steve’s shoulders and pushed. Dazed, Steve sank to his knees and looked up at Eddie through his eyelashes. He looked so disheveled that Eddie felt his own neglected cock drool at the sight. He knew this was dangerous, knew if anyone saw them they would both be in a world of hurt, knew his dick shouldn’t be twitching at the sight of someone who had been kicking the shit out of him for as long as he could remember, but despite it all the juvenile crush he had been harboring for years sprang to the surface as he realized he was about to get sucked off by King Steve Harrington. The king in question was starting to realize the significance of his position. His hand started to trail up the interior of Eddie’s leg, making him tremble.
“Bet you’ve thought about me on my knees for you before, you sick fuck.” He murmured, voice scratchy with lust. “You should know you only have me here because I let you.” Eddie started to laugh but it gave way to a gasp as Steve began to palm him through his jeans.
“Shut—shut up.” Eddie was losing himself to the other man’s hand, to the pressure he was putting on Eddie’s length.
“Don’t pick fights you can’t win.” Steve sneered before pulling Eddie’s dick out in a smooth movement. His tip was pink and wet, stretching his foreskin back by how fucking hard he was. Whatever snappy retort Munson had prepared was lost to a long, low moan as Harrington ran his tongue from the base to the tip before swallowing it into his mouth. Eddie choked out a laugh at the irony of Steve calling him a faggot because the man had almost certainly done this before. His lips were wet as his head bobbed up and down on Eddie’s dick. Eddie’s head fell back as his hips arched, desperate for more of whatever Steve could give him. Desperate for more of anything. Steve pulled his mouth back to the tip and made eye contact with Eddie as he swirled his tongue around and bore down again. Eddie bit down hard on his sleeve to stop the cry that ripped from his chest. The night was clear but it wasn’t literal stars Eddie saw, it was dots in the center of his vision that he almost believed he was getting raptured because this felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. God damn Steve Harrington and his perfect, wet, sloppy, warm mouth.
Eddie’s orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly. The fucking devotion Steve was putting in, the way he hollowed his cheeks just to suck at exactly the right time, the way he kept letting Eddie’s tip get closer to the tight ring of his throat… it was too much to bear. In a brief moment of clarity, Eddie realized that if he let Steve Harrington take him apart like this, it wasn’t any different from losing a fight. This was a fight he knew he could win.
“You are suspiciously good at this, King Steve.” Eddie panted. The self-satisfied hum was cut short when Eddie grabbed his hair again, holding him in place without pulling him off. “Unfortunately for you, I have some grievances I’m going to need you to account for.” Experimentally, Eddie brought his hips back before thrusting roughly into Harrington’s mouth. Steve’s eyes widened. “That was for chipping my tooth in sophomore year.” Eddie narrated, as Steve grabbed ahold of his hip bones to steady himself. He thrust again. “That was for when you kicked my ass so bad I limped for a week.” He thrust twice, each time rougher than the last. “That was for when you broke my fucking nose,” he tightened his hold on Steve’s hair, styling entirely disheveled by Eddie’s fists, and thrust his hips forward hard enough to feel Steve’s stubble against his pelvis. “and that was for the out-of-pocket payment for the ER to set it right again,” he punctuated every word with a shallow thrust, barely able to speak through his impending release “‘cause my insurance… doesn’t… account for… beatdowns from… closeted… queers.” Eddie threw his head back and let out a low moan as the other man worked his magic and after a few more expert nods from Steve, Eddie was shooting off into his throat.
As he came down from what was unfortunately the best rush of his life, Eddie registered that Steve had swallowed his load in its entirety, pulled off his dick, and was leaning his forehead against Eddie’s leg, panting. It wasn’t fair what the sight did to him. This man, this bringer of absolute torment, completely fucked out and gasping for breath. Eddie won. For once, Eddie won. He tucked himself away and started doing his pants back up. Steve raised his snooty face, usually the bane of Eddie’s existence, bathed in moonlight. Fuck. King Steve with teary eyes, disheveled hair, and puffy lips dripping with saliva and cum? That was a face that, unless he was extremely careful, Eddie could fall in love with. There was something in his eyes. In a second they shifted back to their usual glare, but for a brief moment they were almost looking at Eddie in reverence. It made his stomach turn.
“Doing ok, Stevie?” Eddie whispered.
“I’m not closeted.” Steve said, dragging his sleeve over his face in a lame attempt to wipe it clean. Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Are we going to pretend this wasn’t a gay sex act for some fantastical reason?”
“No, you idiot. I don’t mean I’m not gay, I mean I’m not closeted. Everyone knows, it’s a pretty open secret. I just beat the shit out of anybody who tries to give me crap for it.” Steve shook his head and laughed sharply. “What we are going to pretend is that this never happened.”
And there it was. The blow that always came. The edges of Eddie that had begun to soften sharpened again and he looked away, jaw tight.
“Whatever you want, man.”
“We’re going to pretend that you never came out here, that I never kissed you, and you never fucked my face.”
“Okay.” Eddie said flatly.
“And then we’re going to pretend that we never met in my room, locked the door, and I gave you a real reason to limp for a week.” Steve said, his voice low and husky. Eddie’s eyes widened and his cheeks warmed. He looked down at the glint in the other man’s eyes.
“Seriously?” He whispered, hating himself for how hopeful he sounded.
“Upstairs, second door on the left. Don’t talk to anyone on your way. I’ll be there ten minutes after you.” Steve got shakily to his feet and gave Eddie a look so drenched in lust that he could feel his cock stirring again already. He nodded, turned and started to walk away, but before he could get far, Steve grabbed his arm and pulled into a rough kiss. He returned it with vigor.