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ghosttotheparty · 4 months

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a mess of holy things 14 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: face-slapping (in a kinky romantic way)

Steve’s had a headache for at least three days now.

He hates exams. He’s always hated tests in school, but somehow it’s only worse when he’s in college, when he’s sitting in these vast exam halls, in rows and rows of desks, seats, and students. When he can hear the scratching of everyone’s pencils, when he can hear each and every breath, cough, sigh, scrape of a chair, every bump of a knee against a desk. The buzzing of the lights. The clicking of the monitor’s shoes on the floor. The ticking of someone’s watch, slightly out of sync with the clock on the wall.

He almost doesn’t finish today’s exam. Loses track of time, vision blurred a little as he stares blankly at the paper in front of him. Every choice of the question he’s on looks the same. The text is swimming on the paper, and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he puts his hands over his ears. He can still hear everything, but it’s all muffled, quieter, and his vision clears a little bit, just enough for him to read the choices.

He finishes just a few moments before the monitor calls the end of the exam, and for some reason he wants to burst into tears. He looks around as the monitor starts collecting the exams, and he aches, looking at the other students’ expressions, their postures. They all look so… fine.

He notices it after every exam. How everyone looks fine. They make it look so easy.

His eyes sting as he leaves, and he lets his head fall so his hair hides his face.

His dad always hated that he cries like this, so easily, so often. When Steve was younger, he would scold him, berate him, call him a girl, a pussy. Tell him to be a man, even when Steve was so young his voice hadn’t yet started cracking.

And for a long time, Steve hated himself for crying. He’d get angry when his eyes stung and his throat tightened. He’d snap at his friends to leave him alone, to go away, and when he was fourteen he had a brief reputation of being mean. Scary. Just because he never wanted them to see him cry. Never wanted to be weak.

But Eddie doesn’t mind when he cries. Sometimes he even likes it.

He’s never told Steve to stop crying. Never let him hide his tears or wipe them away so Eddie couldn’t see. Never let him apologize.

Steve is still crying when he gets to Eddie’s apartment, his vision blurred, his cheeks flushed from the cold, and he wipes his cheeks as he unlocks the door and steps inside, kicking his shoes off. His head is pounding, like his brain is pressing to the inside of his skull.

He hangs his jacket, squinting, and then he drops his bag before he goes toward the door of the laundry room. It’s ajar, light shining through the crack around it, and he can hear the gentle shaking of the drier. Eddie is hanging a shirt up on the string that’s stretched over the machines, clipping the fabric up carefully, and he looks at Steve when he pushes the door open.

Steve waits for him to finish hanging the shirt, leaning against the doorframe and wiping his cheek, and Eddie is quiet with him, like he can tell Steve’s head hurts, like he just knows.

He finishes with the shirt and then turns toward Steve, arms already open, and fresh tears fill Steve’s eyes again. He lifts his arms to wrap them around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie’s hands find his hips, pulling to pick him up.

Eddie kisses the side of his neck as he carries him to the living room, and Steve closes his eyes, hiding his face from the sunlight. The dark is nice. Comforting. Soothing. Especially when he can hear Eddie’s heart beating steadily.

Steve clings to him as he sets him down on the sofa, burying his face and stifling a sob, his breath shaking. Eddie lets him stay close, running a hand over his back gently until he finally coaxes him away just enough to kiss his cheek.

“What’s going on?” he asks softly, whispering. Steve shakes his head, his eyes still closed.

“…Tired.”

Eddie caresses his face. Steve melts into his hand a little bit.

“How long was your exam today?”

“Three hours,” Steve whispers. He hears Eddie sigh, feels his lips press to his forehead. Steve lets out a soft noise, leaning into the touch. “Head hurts,” he mumbles.

Eddie hums softly, and then he pulls away, still holding Steve’s face.

“Lemme go get you a painkiller,” he whispers. “Okay?”

Steve nods, sighing when Eddie’s hand disappears. He can hear him go to the kitchen and open a cabinet quietly, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes more than a tiny squint. He unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down, pushing them to the floor, and then he grabs the blanket that’s draped over the back of the sofa, tugging it to wrap around himself.

Eddie’s weight drops onto the sofa after a few moments, and Steve’s eyes flutter open tiredly. Eddie is smiling softly, holding a glass of water and a white pill.

“Open.”

Steve opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out, waits for the brief moment that Eddie just looks at him, gazing, before he places the pill on his tongue carefully. Steve closes his mouth, tilting his head back as Eddie lifts the glass to his lips.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispers after swallowing the pill. Eddie kisses him softly.

“‘Course, baby.” He sets the glass on the floor and then reaches for Steve’s face again, cradling his cheeks. “What do you need?”

Steve shrugs, falling toward him a little bit.

“Have another test next week.”

“You’re resting today,” Eddie says firmly. “Okay?”

“…Okay.”

Eddie’s thumb brushes Steve’s lower lip, and Steve’s mouth falls open before he can even think about it, about how he wants Eddie inside him.

Eddie smiles softly. He presses his thumb inside Steve’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Steve groans weakly, sighing.

“What do you want?” Eddie whispers softly.

Tears sting Steve’s eyes. He sucks on Eddie’s thumb for a moment.

“Wanna get outta my head.”

Eddie hums again. He touches Steve’s cheek, presses his fingers to it like he’s analysing him, staring intently. His fingers tap gently, carefully, and Steve’s eyes close as he exhales. He nods.

“You want me to smack you around, baby?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve nods. A tear falls down his cheek. Eddie licks it away.

His hand rubs Steve’s cheek gently for a moment before he slaps gently. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he whimpers, biting his lip.

“Color?” Eddie checks, holding his face.

“Green.”

“Good boy,” Eddie breathes, kissing the tip of his nose. Steve smiles, scrunching his nose, and he already feels out of it, fuzzy and a little stupid. “My baby…”

Steve hums. Eddie slaps his cheek again, a little harder.

Steve lets out a soft whimper, gasping, and he gasps again when Eddie grabs his jaw tightly and tugs him into a rough kiss that he can hardly reciprocate. He moans weakly, finally letting go of the blanket he’s got wrapped around him so he can reach for Eddie’s face.

Eddie bites his lip hard enough that it hurts, and Steve hums. He can feel Eddie smile against his mouth, can feel the way his cheek is warm from the impact of Eddie’s hand.

“You feel good?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods. “Yeah? Nice and stupid for me?”

Steve lets out a soft noise, nodding again.

“Mhmm.”

Eddie smacks his cheek and then rubs it tenderly, pulling him into another kiss.

“You use up all those brain cells on that exam? Ready to relax now?”

Steve nods.

“Open.”

He does, jaw dropping without hesitation, and two of Eddie’s fingers slide into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Eddie coos, his voice soft and tender and condescending. “So fucking smart, baby, you’re so perfect.”

He presses down, pushes Steve’s mouth open and hooks his fingers behind his teeth, and he spits. Steve whines, flushing with heat, and Eddie releases him to let him swallow.

“Fuck, thank you,” Steve breathes.

Eddie hums and leans in to kiss him softly, and Steve opens his mouth desperately. Eddie grins, licking inside, nibbling his lip, sucking on his tongue. He holds Steve’s neck, his palm to his throat, and Steve keens, humming weakly.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve leans in with him, mouth still open, and Eddie laughs softly, jostling him fondly. Steve doesn’t close his mouth. Eddie laughs again, releasing his neck to tap his tongue playfully.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Lemme play with your mouth.”

He manhandles Steve carefully, manoeuvring him to lay with his head in his lap, and Steve could fall asleep here, will Eddie’s hand smoothing his hair back, caressing his cheek.

He pats his cheek firmly, not quite slapping him, and Steve opens his mouth again, humming when Eddie presses two fingers inside.

Eddie holds the top of Steve’s head, fingers twisted into his hair, and he’s practically fucking Steve’s mouth, fingers pressing over his tongue and nudging into his throat over and over until Steve is groaning absently. Eddie is murmuring to him, whispering and cooing fondly, and Steve can barely even understand him, but it doesn’t matter.

Eddie tugs his hair gently, pausing with his fingers in Steve’s throat, leaving them there for a few moments and combing through Steve’s hair when he gags a little bit.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, finally pulling his fingers out, and Steve smiles deliriously as Eddie holds his face, his fingers wet on his skin. Eddie pats his cheek firmly a few times, and Steve moans weakly, blinking his eyes open to look up at him.

“I love you,” he mumbles. Eddie’s face brightens with a smile, and he caresses Steve’s face.

“I love you too, baby boy.”

Steve hums and closes his eyes again.

─────────────────

His head hurts again. But he’s still looking intently at his notes, flipping through his flashcards, whispering to himself. The papers are spread out in front of him on Eddie’s bed, the blankets pushed out of the way, against the wall. He’s sitting cross-legged, leaning over to see his handwriting. The overhead light is on, golden and bright, and it’s shining on his papers, almost reflecting in a way that makes his headache worse.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, but he isn’t planning on getting up any time soon. The test he has this week is with 70% of his grade, which, in his (and Robin’s) opinion, is bullshit. He hates that this test is worth so much, that the test is going to be hours long, in that stupid exam hall, that he’s going to have to listen to all the little noises that no one else seems to notice.

His face is sore from how his eyebrows are furrowed, and his back hurts from how he’s leaning over, but the aches and pains are only lingering in the back of his mind. They don’t matter right now.

He’s shuffling his flashcards again when Eddie’s voice calls his name from the hallway, quiet and gentle.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t look up even as he hears the floor creak by the door, as Eddie leans against the doorframe. Eddie sighs.

“Stevie, baby, you ready to take a break?”

“Not yet,” Steve says absently, leaning to turn the page in his textbook. Eddie is quiet for a moment.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been sitting there for almost four hours,” he says calmly, gently. “You should take a break.”

“Not yet,” Steve says again, his voice more firm, and his focus is already drifting, fuzzing a little bit. Frustration balls up in his chest.

“Stevie—”

“If I stop I’ll lose track of what I’m doing,” Steve says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “I can’t stop right now, I won’t be able to start over, and this test is— is gonna be fucking huge, I need to study as much as I can, I can’t afford anything but a passing grade, it’s gonna be seventy percent of my grade.”

“I know, baby, but—”

“I can’t stop right now, Eddie,” Steve snaps.

And Eddie is quiet.

Too quiet.

Steve’s eyes burn, but he can’t bring himself to lift his head, to look over at him or say anything else. Eddie exhales.

“I’m gonna make lunch,” he says after a moment. “Will you take a break to eat?”

He sounds like he’s pleading, like he’s desperate. Steve just nods.

Eddie leaves silently, the floor creaking under his feet, and Steve blinks the tears out of his eyes, exhaling shakily before he wipes his cheeks and looks back down at his flashcards. He can hear Eddie in the kitchen, can hear the sink running, the pots and pans clanking in the cabinet as Eddie pulls one out, can hear the stove click before it lights. The sounds are welcome, quiet and domestic, but Steve’s stomach twists.

The air feels tight. It gets caught in his chest as he breathes, as he whispers to himself again, flipping through the flashcards and his notes, focussing as best he can.

Until Eddie’s voice calls, “Lunch,” he takes a heavy breath, pushing himself off the bed with a sigh. He wobbles a little bit, wincing as he stretches his legs and his back.

He’s squinting as he goes to the kitchen, the sunlight brighter than it is in the bedroom, and Eddie glances up at him as he’s serving them.

“Painkiller?” he asks lightly, and Steve’s heart aches.

“Yes, please.”

He leans against the counter as Eddie gets the pill bottle and a glass of water, arms crossed, hands tucked away as he watches.

“Open.”

Steve opens his mouth. Waits as Eddie places the pill on his tongue and lifts the glass to his lips.

“Thank you,” he says softly after swallowing, and Eddie smiles, tilting his head a little bit, before he turns away to put the glass down and reach for Steve’s bowl, but Steve catches his arm, pulling at his sleeve. Eddie takes the silent cue and steps closer, standing in front of Steve and reaching for his hip, holding him against the counter. Steve guides his other hand to his waist and reaches up to his neck when Eddie holds him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“No, Eddie, just…” He sighs heavily, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder and shaking his head. “I get short when I’m stressed and I… I shouldn’t take it out on you, I just… I get frustrated really easily and I…”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, pushing a hand under Steve’s shirt, sliding his palm across his waist. “I get it, sweetheart.”

Steve sighs again. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging him tightly, and Eddie’s hand slides to the small of his back, pressing him closer before he softens his grip, trailing his fingertips over his skin lightly.

“You push yourself too hard,” Eddie whispers. “Work yourself to the bone and then get tired.”

Steve nods.

He knows.

But it’s all he can do.

“My dad would be so pissed if I failed a class,” he says quietly into Eddie’s neck, and now Eddie sighs heavily, pulling away to look at him, reaching to touch his face.

“I hate your dad so much,” he says. Steve smiles crookedly.

“I know.”

Eddie gazes at him, tracing a line on his cheek for a moment before his expression shifts like he’s thinking. Steve pushes his fingers into his hair.

“Do you… Do you actually want to be in college?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s mouth twists as he hesitates, and then he shakes his head.

“I can’t drop out,” he says quietly. “It’s not… They’d never let me.”

Eddie nods knowingly, caressing his jaw.

“What are you gonna do when you graduate?” he asks, and Steve shrugs, turning his face into Eddie’s hand to kiss his palm.

“Work for my dad, probably,” he says quietly, and the words dangle in the air between them. Neither of them says it, but Steve knows that he’s thinking the same thing.

How fucking miserable it would be to be a Harrington employee. How fucking lonely.

If he and Eddie are on a timeline. If they’ll be able to see each other at all if Steve goes to work for his dad, if they’ll still be able to have each other. If Steve would ever be able to find anyone like Eddie ever again. If he’d even want to.

He pulls Eddie into a kiss before his eyes can start to sting again, and Eddie lets him, already tilting his head and pulling him closer, sighing as he pushes a hand into Steve’s hair. And Steve doesn’t want to pull away, doesn’t want to think about the future when he could feel what he has right now.

Eddie’s hand closes on his throat, holding him in place, licking into his mouth, and Steve’s breath catches as he leans toward him, leans into his hand. Eddie loosens his grip, but Steve reaches to press his fingers into his skin again, guiding Eddie to squeeze. Eddie smiles against his mouth, squeezing for a moment, and Steve hums.

He lifts his hands to touch Eddie’s chest, slipping under the hem of his shirt and sliding up to rest over his heart. His skin is warm. And Steve kind of wants to tuck himself inside of Eddie, to hide away under his skin.

He takes a deep breath when they finally part, inhaling and exhaling slowly, spreading his fingers over Eddie’s chest.

“Let’s eat,” Eddie says, nudging their noses together. Steve nods without opening his eyes, and Eddie kisses his nose. Steve smiles. “You wanna go out after? Get some fresh air?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

They eat. Eddie wraps a scarf around Steve’s neck after he puts on his jacket, and he uses it to tug Steve into a chaste kiss. Steve blushes in spite of himself, suppressing a smile as he turns away to grab his wallet from where it’s sitting on the kitchen counter. Eddie is grinning as he pulls his jacket on.

Steve’s head doesn't hurt anyone more as they walk outside, bumping into each other playfully, trying to trip each other up and giggling. When Steve stumbles, Eddie catches him with a laugh, wrapping an arm around him tightly, and he leaves it there as they walk down the sidewalk, his arm draped over Steve’s shoulders. Steve wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, lifting his other hand to twist their fingers together, and he finds that he doesn’t particularly care when a woman’s eyes linger on them as they pass.

They go to a cafe. Eddie gets them coffees while Steve sits and puts their jackets down, unwinds the scarf from his neck. Eddie kicks at his feet under their table, ripping open a packet of sugar and leaning to pour it into Steve’s coffee. Steve rolls his eyes.

“You spilled some.”

“That’s good luck,” Eddie says lightly, smiling absently as he mixes the coffee. “Means you’re gonna pass that test.”

Steve suppresses a smile.

“What do you wanna do when we get back?” Eddie asks, mixing his own coffee. Steve hesitates.

“I really have to study,” he says softly, locking their ankles together. Eddie nods without looking up for a moment before he lifts his gaze, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“You want some help?”

Steve snorts, leaving over the table to grab a napkin and place it on the table where some coffee’s splashed over the side of Eddie’s mug.

“Would you actually help?”

Eddie grins.

“How ‘bout this?” he says, lowering his voice and leaning over the table. “You get something right, I take something off, you get something wrong, you take something off.”

A laugh bursts out of Steve, and he claps a hand over his mouth when a man at another table glances at him. Eddie is grinning, eyes shining brightly.

“That would not be helpful,” Steve says when he quiets himself. “I would be way too fucking distracted.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and looks away, still smiling.

“Ah.”

Steve bites his lip, gazing at him. His hair is tied up out of the way, messy and wild, and he’s beautiful, and Steve wants him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting him.

“How about…” He pauses, and Eddie raises his eyebrows as he looks at him again, suppressing a smile like he’s anticipating. “How about I study by myself,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows back at Eddie. “And then you come in later and quiz me.”

Eddie presses his lips together, looking away as he lifts his mug to his lips, humming affirmatively, and Steve beams.

Eddie’s skin happens to be a good incentive, Steve finds.

He doesn’t miss a single question later that day when Eddie quizzes him, flipping through his postcards and intermittently setting them down to pull an article of clothing off, starting with one of his socks to tease Steve, who rolls his eyes. Steve’s cheeks are sore from smiling every time Eddie sighs dramatically and complains that Steve is too smart.

“Unfair that you haven’t gotten anything wrong,” Eddie says dryly after a while, lounging against the post of his bed casually, legs spread. Steve’s eyes rake over his bare body hungrily, lingering at the softness of his belly over the waistband of his boxers, biting his lip.

“I don’t mind.”

“‘Course you don’t mind.”

Steve sticks his tongue out at him.

“Alright, one more,” Eddie sighs, rifling through the flashcards with a cocked eyebrow. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright…” He lifts one and flips it over, hiding it from Steve. “Define relative advantage.”

Steve takes a breath, thinking, hesitating, looking at the ceiling instead of Eddie’s chest.

“The degree to which… the innovation appears… superior to existing products.”

He looks at Eddie expectantly, and Eddie looks back at him blankly before he sighs and looks away, moving to get off the bed, standing and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. Steve beams as Eddie tugs them down, moving to sit on the bed in front of him, hands tucked into his lap as Eddie kicks them aside.

Steve beckons for him to come closer, and Eddie scoffs, coming close enough for Steve to reach up and grab his waist, pulling him closer, kissing Dorian’s head, which makes Eddie laugh again.

“Feel like I should be rewarding you,” Eddie says, touching Steve’s head as Steve kisses his belly, his chest, his ribs.

“You are, shush.”

Eddie snorts, tugging his hair, and Steve grins, kissing him one more time before he pushes Eddie away, standing up off the bed and pushing Eddie to sit on the bed.

“Sit.”

Eddie laughs softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and spreading his legs as Steve kneels on the floor. Steve kisses his thighs, reaching for his dick and rubbing as it hardens in his hand. Eddie hums, pushing a hand through Steve’s hair, holding it back.

“You happy down there?” Eddie asks, his voice a little rougher. Steve hums affirmatively, nuzzling against his thigh.

“I love you,” he says lightly.

“I love you too, honey.”

Steve smiles up at him, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie touches his cheek, and then he lowers his head and takes Eddie’s dick into his mouth, exhaling as Eddie sighs.

─────────────────

He doesn’t know how the exam goes, really. He kind of goes blank during it, reading, squinting, covering his ears, filling in circles, repeating. A few questions remind him of Eddie, of how he peeled the fabric of his shirt off his chest, of how he stood to remove his boxers, and Steve has to suppress a smile, his cheeks flushing with warmth.

He goes back to his dorm room after it’s finished, pausing at the grocery store to get a sandwich and a drink because Eddie told him to eat after the exam. He eats on his way back to his room, watching the sun go down, watching the sky dim, and he’s so fucking tired he kind of feels like he could pass out on one of the benches he passes by.

Eddie is working at the Hideout tonight. He said he’d call Steve during his break, and Steve can’t wait, laying in bed and looking at the sky outside, watching the tree sway in the wind, listening to the girls down the hall screaming and laughing loudly. He’s fucking drained, and a part of him wants to celebrate somehow, but he can’t even bring himself to change out of Eddie’s hoodie.

When the phone rings, his eyes fly open and he sits up, startled. His heart is beating faster as he reaches for it, leaning over and pulling toward himself, eyes already drifting shut again.

“Hi.”

“Stephen?”

His eyes open again.

“Mom?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She sounds amused, but he can hear the underlying suspicion in her voice, like she’s baiting him into a confession.

“No, sorry, I— I had a big exam today, I’m… I’m tired.”

“How did it go?”

“I think it went well,” he says lightly, sighing softly. “I studied for a long time for it.”

Eddie flashes in his mind. His hand in Steve’s hair, guiding his head up and down, murmuring his name sweetly with vulgar curses and groans. His thighs under Steve’s hands, the taste of him on his tongue, the space he took in Steve’s throat.

“When do you get your results?” Catherine asks, snapping him out of it.

“Uh, a few weeks,” he says. “I’m not sure, I’ll have to check again. I keep mixing dates up.”

“Alright.” She sighs, and Steve hopes she’s about to hang up. “Your father wanted me to talk to you about something.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, letting his head fall back to the wall.

“What’s that?”

“You don’t call him enough.”

His eyes open, and he makes a face across the room like Robin is sitting by the door.

“I… don’t understand. Why doesn’t he just call me?”

“Steven, relationships go both ways—”

“No, I know, I just— You call me from the home phone, so even if I— if I called you guys, I would be calling the home phone, so if he wanted me to call him, specifically, he’d need to give me his work phone, and I don’t—”

“Stephen,” she interrupts firmly. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

He snaps his mouth shut.

“I can suggest that he give you his work phone,” she says lightly, her tone shifting smoothly. “But maybe you should call us more often. We’re always calling you.”

“I…” He pauses. If he called his dad’s work phone, he’d get an earful about interrupting him. About calling for no reason. He knows it. “I wouldn’t know when to call, that’s why… I thought that’s why we had this— this system, or whatever. You guys come home late sometimes, I thought it was just easier for you to call me when you’re available to talk.”

She sighs again.

“You could always put a little more effort in, Stephen.”

He glares across the room.

“Okay,” he says as lightly as possible. “I’ll try, I’m sorry.”

“Do you have any other tests coming up?”

“No, that was the last one. I have lectures next week. I might take this weekend to just— rest.”

“You could always get a head start on your next classes,” she says lightly, and he nods tiredly.

“I know. I’m really tired, though.”

“Alright, go on to bed, then,” she says. He shifts to sit up again. “Get your rest.”

“Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, Stephen.”

He hangs the phone up and stares at it. And then he lays back down, looking at the ceiling, and he curls up into a ball like a child, tucking his face under the neckline of the hoodie he’s wearing, inhaling deeply, breathing in the smell of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne, and he wants him. Longs for him. Waits for the phone to rings.

It rings after a while, but he’s still awake now. He picks it up and leans against the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby, how’d it go?”

Steve exhales.

“Fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh… My mom called.”

“What’d she have to say?” Eddie asks, and Steve can hear music in the background, muffled and a little quieter when a door closes.

“That I should put in more effort,” Steve says, almost laughing. “And call my dad.”

Eddie is quiet. He knows the arrangement Steve and his parents have.

“What… bullshit.”

Steve scoffs, nodding even though Eddie can’t see him.

“Yeah. I’m…” His throat tightens suddenly, and his vision blurs. “I want you,” he chokes. His voice breaks.

“You got me, baby,” Eddie says softly, but it’s not enough.

“I want you,” Steve says brokenly. “I want you so bad, sir, I just—”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts gently, his voice soft and soothing. Steve closes his eyes. “Take a deep breath for me, Stevie.”

He does, inhaling slowly, exhaling shakily.

“Good boy, you’re okay.”

Steve whimpers. Eddie’s voice is low, wrapping around Steve like a blanket, like the dark.

“One more. …There you go. What do you need right now, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whines, wiping his face. “I’m so fucking tired, I just…”

“Breathe,” Eddie murmurs. Steve breathes. “What do you need, Stevie?”

Steve takes another breath, his inhale stuttering as he wipes his cheek again. Eddie’s breath is in his ear, and Steve wishes he was here, wishes he could feel his breath on his skin, wishes he could kiss him.

“Wanna come.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks sweetly, and Steve nods.

“Please, sir.”

“Gimme just a second, baby.” The door opens again and Steve hears the music get louder, hears Eddie call someone’s name. “I’m gonna need some more time, just letting you know.” Steve hears someone respond gruffly, and Eddie calls a faux-sweet, “Thank you-u-u!”

“I’m right here, baby, you good?” Eddie asks softly after another moment.

“Mhmm.”

“Where are your words?”

Steve flushes with heat.

“I’m good, sir.”

“Good boy. What are you wearing?”

“Mm.” Steve opens his eyes, looks down at himself. “Your hoodie. ‘M still wearing my jeans.”

“You haven’t taken off your jeans?”

“No, sir.”

“Take them off for me, sweet thing. Get nice ‘n comfy.”

“M’kay.”

Steve sets the phone down for a moment, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down, kicking them aside.

“They’re off.”

“Good boy, you wearing your underwear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on and touch yourself over them for me.”

Steve hums breathily as he does, dragging his hand over his dick, squeezing his legs together.

“That’s it,” Eddie breathes. “Feel good?”

“Yes, sir. Wish it was you.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” Eddie coos. “You can come over tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Push your underwear down now.”

Steve hums, shoving them down, out of the way, and he’s already so wet in the way Eddie likes.

“Okay,” he says again.

“Spit in your palm.”

He does. Eddie must hear it over the phone.

“Touch yourself, nice and slow.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says weakly, his breath catching as he rubs himself slowly, squeezing. “Fuck.”

He hasn’t done this, not since the night it didn’t work. Eddie usually does it, reaching to touch him with Steve’s legs over his shoulders, stroking him teasingly and making him beg.

Eddie hums softly, and Steve wonders if he’s hard, if he’s touching himself.

Steve moans, holding the phone tightly, falling forward, gasping for breath.

“Stevie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hand off.”

Steve whines, taking his hand away, writhing against the wall, and he hears Eddie laugh softly, meanly.

“Grab your pillow,” Eddie says, and Steve exhales sharply, opening his eyes to find one, grabbing it.

“Okay.”

“Kneel.”

Steve moves, his limbs heavy as he shifts onto his knees, breathing hard, listening as Eddie hums approvingly, like he can see Steve. And it occurs to Steve that he doesn’t have to kneel. That he could lie, could pretend to, or he could tell Eddie he doesn’t want to. But he does anyway, his stomach fluttering, his body flushing with warmth from Eddie’s approval.

“Put the pillow between your legs. Want you to use it like you use my leg.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, shifting to straddle the pillow, grinding against it weakly.

“Alright?”

“Yes, sir, it… Fuck, it feels good.”

“I know, baby. You can fold it however you need, alright? Make yourself feel good.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says softly, reaching down to tuck his hand under the pillow, pulling it up so it folds between his legs, pressing to his dick more firmly. “Oh, God.”

“No, ‘s just me.”

Steve giggles deliriously, grinding against the pillow harder with a groan.

“What do I do?” he asks weakly.

“Just that, honey, you’re doing so good for me,” Eddie says softly, sweetly. “You’re wearing my hoodie?”

“Yes.”

“Slip your hand under there for me. Play with those pretty tits.”

“Jesus.”

Steve exhales sharply, freezing for a moment before he resumes, pressing his hips down against the pillow, sliding his hand under the hoodie, grabbing his own chest the way Eddie would, his grip tight, squeezing. He lets out a weak noise, high in his throat, and Eddie laughs again.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” he says quietly, fondly. “You’re so perfect, Stevie, my good boy.”

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Steve says breathlessly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Pinch your nipple for me.”

Steve does, letting out a quiet squeaking noise, and his hands are trembling, shaking as Eddie hums softly.

“You’re so noisy.”

“I know, ‘m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry, you know I love hearing you.”

“Fuck, Eddie.”

“Mm.”

Eddie is breathing harder too, and Steve hears him groan softly, and Steve almost fucking comes right then and there, just knowing Eddie is touching himself too, just from telling Steve what to do, just from listening to him.

“Fuck—”

“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie gasps. “Sound so fucking good, baby boy, sound so pretty.”

“Fuck, thank you,” Steve pants. “Thank you, thank you, th— Fuck—”

“That’s it, honey, come on.”

Steve pinches his nipple harder for a moment before he reaches down to hold the pillow in place, leaning over to fuck it, moving quickly, desperately, groaning Eddie’s name. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and he’s enveloped by darkness, by Eddie’s smooth, breathless voice.

“Come for me, baby boy, come on, sweetheart—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—”

He groans weakly, falling forward, gripping the pillow tightly and holding it to himself as his hips jump, as he gasps for breath, panting, listening to Eddie. He can vaguely hear the wet sounds of Eddie’s hand on his dick, and Steve bites his lip, moaning again. He wishes he could see him, wishes he could feel him.

“Eddie, please,” he breathes.

“Fuck, I’m…”

“Come for me, sir.”

“Jesus, fuck—”

Steve buries his face in the mattress, grinning broadly as Eddie grunts and swears quietly. He loves how Eddie sounds when he comes. And before he comes. And after he comes.

“God, Steve,” Eddie says breathlessly, panting. “You okay?”

Steve groans.

“‘S come all over my pillow.”

“Shit,” Eddie says with a light laugh. He’s still catching his breath. “Didn’t think about that. Sorry.”

Steve just hums.

“‘S okay,” he mumbles.

“You feel better?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yes, sir,” Steve says softly, sighing. “Lot better.”

“‘S good, baby, you did so good for me.”

Steve hums in response, listening to Eddie murmur, listening to his smooth voice as his breath slow and even out. Steve rolls onto his side, the pillow still between his legs. The fabric of his pillowcase is wet.

“You wanna get cleaned up?” Eddie asks gently. “I— Do not fucking come in here.” Steve bursts into laughter, burying his face in his bed. “Jesus, fuckin’… My dick’s still out.”

Steve hides his face, giggling as he hears Eddie tucking himself away, zipping his jeans up.

“Okay, baby, you good?” Eddie asks, his voice light, amused.

“I’m good,” Steve says softly, still giggling. “I’m gonna clean up. Throw this pillowcase in the hamper.”

“Smart. I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

“Mm. Responsible.”

“Yeah? You think that’s hot?”

Steve snorts.

“Everything you do is hot.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Steve takes a deep breath, smiling into his bed, and he sighs.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Love you, baby. I’m right here whenever you need me, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve whispers.

“Go get cleaned up and go to bed. You did so good today, sweetheart, with everything. ‘M so proud of you.”

Warmth floods Steve’s body. He wants to kiss him.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You okay for me to let you go?”

“I’m okay,” Steve says softly. “Just sleepy.”

“Okay, baby. Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve doesn’t think it’ll ever get old, hearing those words come from Eddie’s mouth. He’s never heard it much from anyone, but it’s like Eddie says it every chance he gets, every time it even occurs to him. While they’re cleaning the kitchen, as Eddie is slipping behind Steve with a hand on his waist, while Eddie is bringing him coffee and kissing his forehead, while he’s climbing into bed next to him after coming back from work late at night.

Every single time, it gives Steve a little thrill. A little flutter in his stomach like he’s going over a wave in a boat, like he’s falling through the air. He blushes a lot, smiles bashfully in a way that makes Eddie gaze at him fondly.

The words echo in Steve’s head as they hang up, as he goes to the bathroom to clean himself off, as he tugs on another pair of boxers and tosses the other pair and the pillowcase in his hamper. He shoves the naked pillow under the other one, too tired to find another pillowcase, and he tucks himself into a tight ball, sighing heavily. He wraps his arms around himself, shifting so his face is against the fabric of Eddie’s hoodie. And he sleeps, his mind swimming with Eddie’s voice.

I love you

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