#I know advantage wasn’t introduced to DnD until 5e but maybe Eddie Munson invented advantage as a homebrew

[flieslikeamoron]

Hi! For the first sentence game:

"You want to try that again?" he asks.

Sorry this took a while, but it turned into a whole thing. This is like 2.5K. Not really explicit, but there are some boners and stuff of that nature.

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“You want to try that again?” he asks.

“I don’t need your pity,” Steve says sourly. “I’ll take my stupid three.”

“It’s not pity.” Eddie laughs and waves a hand, generous as a king. “You have advantage.” 

“You get to roll twice,” Dustin says. “And take the highest.”

“I know what advantage is, dipshit.” Steve rolls his eyes as the number comes up.  “A whole seven.” He makes a whoop-di-doo motion with his finger.

“Your persuasion check fails.” Eddie leans forward threateningly over the screen in front of him. “The guard rings the alarm bell.” A chorus of groans rise around the table. Eddie grins, shifting into the growling scream of a wrestling announcer. “Rrrrolll for initiative.”

___

Steve comes out of the kitchen with a garbage bag in his hand after the kids have all gone. The little shits leave a disaster area of junk everywhere they go: half eaten pizza crusts, scribbled notes, mysterious piles of crumbs that don’t look like anything Eddie actually saw them eat. Steve reaches across the table to pick up a paper plate. He ditched his sweater halfway through the game, a bit of chest hair peeking out of the V of his polo. Eddie blinks and looks away. He sweeps all the miniatures off the table into his old ammo box with a clatter. 

Steve sets the garbage bag down and snatches the box from Eddie’s hand. He glares at Eddie and starts organizing the haphazard jumble. “Come on, man. There’s a system.”

“I have my own system. It’s called not having OCD.”

“It’s called not being able to find the ones you need next week.”

“What are you, alphabetizing them?”

“Like I know their names,” Steve scoffs, holding up a furry, long-fanged monster. 

“Bugbear,” Eddie says.

“Nerd,” Steve says fondly. Like he didn’t spend four hours at the table tonight. Lately Steve has become, if not a weekly player, at least a recurring guest star. He likes to gripe and act like it’s such a chore. Like he’s doing Dustin a favor. Or humoring Eddie. Being supportive of his nerdy-ass hobbies. Giving up his oh so busy Friday night.

Eddie knows better. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t play. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t keep his character sheet updated. Wouldn’t cover the back with careful notes of the names of each NPC the party meets, bits of lore. 

No, Eddie is onto him. Steve gets pushy about his XP in that competitive jock way he has about him. Just as excited about beating one of Eddie’s traps or monsters as the kids. That lit up glint in his eye every time he reminds Eddie he’s immune to charm or poison, like he’s getting one over on him. He’s having fun. And Eddie-

Well.

Eddie came to terms with the fact that he’s horny for his straight roommate long ago. That maybe he even has a fucked up little crush on the guy. But the really fucked up thing is Steve spends a pretty significant amount of time sweaty and shirtless around Eddie, and watching him total up his damage, not forgetting to add his bonuses, is somehow hotter. 

Steve glances up from the minis. Whatever’s on Eddie’s face must be a doozy because his eyebrows knit together briefly. But then he smiles. God. The way a smile looks on him. He starts talking about the stat boost he’s going to get when he levels up. He talks about it like he’s been borrowing Eddie’s Player’s Manual on the sly. Hair drooping down over his forehead and that smile on his face and that polo tight against his chest. Eddie wants to jump his bones so bad, it feels like someone punching him in the dick. But in a good way.

“I could put it into strength or charisma,” Steve is saying. “I was thinking charisma, so I could get that plus two.”

“That’d almost catch you up to real life.”

“You think I have a plus three to charisma?” Steve cocks his head, half smiling, half curious. Like he’s trying to figure out if that was a joke or an actual compliment. This is where things get dangerous. Being around him makes Eddie feel almost feverish: too hot, fuzzy headed, all wound up with wanting shit he can’t have. And he’s around him all the time. 

The problem with Steve is he doesn’t act like any straight guy Eddie’s ever known. Most straight guys treat Eddie kind of like he’s contagious. Not making a big deal, just… Leaving space. It’s fine that you’re gay, but don’t touch me. It’s fine, but don’t put it in my face. Don’t make it too real. It’s fine, but- It’s the kind of thing that makes Eddie want to push. Get up in a guy’s space, press right against that uncomfortable but. It’s almost a game. Pretty dangerous game, he knows that. Poking at the violence most guys have in them. But Eddie likes the fuck you of it, the little bit of fear in that step they take back when he gets too close. 

Steve though- Steve doesn’t back down from anything. Not monsters, not an argument, not even a guy hitting on him. No matter how hard Eddie pushes, he hasn’t found anything that can make Steve blink, take a step back. When Eddie leans into his space, expecting him to flinch, he just slings an arm around Eddie to pull him in even closer. If he touches Steve, Steve touches him back. And Eddie can say the most insane shit. Flirty shit, blatant shit. Steve just plays along. Like it’s all good fun. 

Is it really Eddie’s fault if he forgets himself sometimes? Starts running his mouth way too close to the truth? What is Eddie supposed to do when Steve takes all Eddie’s big boys and sweethearts with a pleased smile? What is Eddie supposed to do with the way Steve sprawls out on the couch after a date? Lays his head in Eddie’s lap and plays with Eddie’s rings while he talks about whether this girl gave good head or why he doesn’t think that girl will work out. 

This is the kind of shit he’s dealing with, okay? Just the other day Steve came out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel around his waist. And Eddie leaned in to smell him. Look, he’s very aware of how weird that was. But he’d been half asleep, and he’d just- He hadn’t been thinking. It happens kind of a lot with Eddie, actually. He doesn’t think. Maybe that’s why Steve didn’t step back, or give him a well deserved push. Didn’t even look at him funny for doing something objectively weird. Objectively fucked up. He laughed and yanked Eddie in until his nose was squashed into the warm curve of Steve’s armpit. Steve’s hand wide on the back of Eddie’s head as he pushed Eddie’s face in there, tight. 

“Take a big whiff,” he said, like he didn’t care that Eddie was pressed up against his bare skin, body to body with Eddie’s hand curving around his waist, brushing against his back. Like he didn’t care that Eddie’s hard dick was obvious against his thigh. 

When he let Eddie go, his gaze flicked down to Eddie’s boner. Just as obvious. Making sure Eddie knew he’d noticed it. A teasing lilt to his voice as he said, “Bathroom’s all yours.” Practically inviting Eddie to jerk off. Practically inviting Eddie to think about him while he did it. And Eddie did. Not for the first time, or the last. 

What is he supposed to do with any of that except want Steve even more? Sometimes he wishes Steve was just a little less- Cool with it. Not that he wants Steve to look at him with that “It’s fine, but-” on his face. It would be easier though, in a way. If Steve didn’t let him get so close. Didn’t let him press his grubby face up against the glass, so close to what he wants it’s hard to remember he can’t have it. 

Steve turns to Eddie with his fist propped under his chin. “Tell me about my charms,” he says. “What is it about me exactly that makes me so damn charismatic?” Voice playful, flirty. Dangerous. 

If there’s one thing Eddie knows how to do, it’s bluff. Hey, just joking. You can take a joke, right? “That face, mostly,” he says, putting a palm right into it, pushing Steve away with his cheek turned. Steve lets Eddie move him with an easy laugh. “And your modesty, obviously.”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, still laughing. He moves farther down the table to dump another plate in the garbage bag. He reaches over to gather up a few dice, pausing over the blue one he used during the game. He holds it up, turning it between his thumb and forefinger. He looks over at Eddie, his dark eyes catching Eddie’s. Catching Eddie staring. Eddie quickly busies himself with rolling up his battle map. 

“I don’t think I had a single roll over ten all night.” Steve gives the die a toss down the length of the table, flailing a hand as it comes up a four. “I think it’s weighted.” 

Eddie snorts. “It isn’t.”

“You gave me a weighted die. You’re a goddamn cheater.” He hides a grin behind the accusation, but Eddie plays along as if he’s serious. Who’s Eddie kidding? Half the fights they’ve had, Eddie picked on purpose just because it was fun. Riling each other up for the hell of it.  

“I’m not,” he says. “I’ll prove it.” He plucks the die off the table and shakes it in his hand. “If I roll above a ten, you have to clean up this mess.”

Steve glares, flapping the garbage bag in his hands around in front of him like a matador cape. Annoyance is his second hottest look, in Eddie’s expert opinion. Indignant color on his cheeks, eyes bright. Eddie wants to bite the petulance on his lip. “I’m already cleaning it up.”

“Yeah, but I’m helping you,” Eddie says. “You have to do it by yourself if I win.”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much to lose.”

“Shut up, I’m helping.” Eddie performatively drops a plastic cup in Steve’s bag with a bow.

“That cup wasn’t empty,” Steve huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you to dump it in the sink first. Now it’s going to leak probably and I’ll have to…” Eddie tunes the rest out. Steve’s right, he has heard it before. He rolls the die down the table with a flourish, holding up a finger in Steve’s direction like “wait a sec” and watching as it lands on a fifteen.

“Not a cheater,” he said triumphantly. “And not helping anymore.”

“One good roll doesn’t prove if it’s weighted or not. It’s about the patterns.” Steve rolls again. A two. He motions to it with attitude in the sweep of his hand.

“Fine,” Eddie says. “I’ll go again. How about I roll above a ten two more times, or hey, let’s make it three, if you really want a pattern. If I win, you have to do my laundry.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Like you’ll follow through if I win.” 

Eddie places a dramatic hand on his heart, his voice going shocked. “You’ve besmirched my honor.” 

Steve breaks, a laugh cutting through his frown. He gives Eddie a skeptical “go ahead then” tilt of his chin. Eddie rolls. An eleven. He walks backward from one end of the table to the other, to pick up the die where it landed. Makes sure to bump into Steve as he passes. “Pardon me, big boy,” he says sweetly. Steve pushes him into a stumble, but he turns sharply like a flamenco dancer. Arm coming up above his head as he slings the die back down the table. Seventeen. A shit eating grin. Another walk down to the end of the table. Another bump. He can feel the daggers Steve is glaring at him itching hot between his shoulder blades. He tosses the last roll over his shoulder without looking. 

“Blow me,” Steve mutters. Eddie turns to see the thirteen on the die. Steve’s delicious, disgruntled face. Grumpy is such a good look on him.

“If you roll under a ten again, I will.” 

Steve’s eyebrows rise. 

Jesus Christ, Eddie needs to wire his goddamn jaw shut. Steve hesitates on the edge of a laugh. It was a joke. Obviously. Whether it started out there or not, Eddie will make it a joke. But there’s something about the way Steve is caught on the edge of not sure if Eddie was kidding.

Eddie can’t resist a little push. He flashes his teeth. “Scared of a blowjob?”

“You’re serious?” Steve says cautiously.

“Why not?” Eddie shrugs. “It’s just sucking dick. I like dick.”

“Yeah…” Steve says. “But it’s… My dick.” 

Like Eddie hasn’t lovingly built a shrine to Steve’s dick in his mind. Like he doesn’t prostrate himself before it basically every time he jerks off. Eddie’s hard as shit right now, his whole body tight with wanting, his blood fizzing, just because Steve hasn’t shut him down yet. Can’t he feel how desperate Eddie is for him? It feels like it’s pouring off him in waves, like ripples of heat off asphalt in the summer. 

“Or it’s your mouth.” Eddie’s smile goes sharp. Just a little push. “If you lose.” 

Steve flushes, his eyes huge. “You would want that?” 

Jesus. Why hasn’t Steve shut him down? Why is he still playing along? It isn’t too late. Eddie can still play it off as a joke. But the way Steve’s looking at him- Steve doesn’t back down. Not from monsters, not from a dare. Would he really… Maybe he would actually let Eddie do it. “And then what?” the small rational part of him that tries to keep him from fucking himself over asks. He pays just as much attention to it now as he ever does.

“I’ll make it easy on you,” Eddie says. “You roll low, just like you have every roll tonight. You can have advantage, even. Triple advantage. Three chances. Get one roll ten or lower. I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.” It’s not so much a bet anymore, as an offer. Eddie begging behind the thinnest pretense. Please, please let me suck your dick.

Steve still hasn’t said no. He stands there with the die in his hand instead of telling Eddie to fuck off. Looking at Eddie so close, this heavy, searching gaze that makes Eddie feel like he’s one snarled knot of heat from his throat to his balls. Steve notices Eddie’s hard-on, that heavy gaze lingering for a long second. He’s still looking at Eddie as he throws the die. Eddie can’t quite bring himself to look away, listening to the rattle of it until it stops. 

Eddie has to look. Has to know. 

A nineteen. 

Fuck. He looks back at Steve. “You want to try that again?”

Steve is bright red as he shakes his head no, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. There’s no hesitation in him now. He keeps his eyes on Eddie, as he sinks down to his knees. 

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These have been helping me get back into a writing habit, so I’ll keep it open if anyone else wants to play. The original rules of the game are you leave an ask with the first sentence of a fic, and I’ll write the next five sentences. But the rules I made up are I just write as much as I want. Five sentences minimum though.

#and they were roommates #dnd as foreplay #sex bets kind of #writing game #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #my fic #I know advantage wasn’t introduced to DnD until 5e but maybe Eddie Munson invented advantage as a homebrew #you can’t prove he didn’t