Chapter Text
steve did not plan to be spending his friday night watching a romantic cowboy movie. he definitely didn’t plan to spend his friday night watching a romantic cowboy movie in which one of the cowboys wears a black, mesh shirt.
steve absolutely, without a doubt, did not plan to spend his friday night watching a romantic cowboy movie in which one of the cowboys wears a black, mesh shirt while his knee is pressed against eddie munson’s.
and yet.
yet here he is, the only dingy pillow on the family video couch in his lap, face red and breathing shallow.
robin is going to hell. robin is going to hell not because she likes girls, but because she’s on a date with one right now.
robin is on a date with a girl right now when she’s supposed to here, sitting between eddie and steve, watching the movie she picked out.
steve and robin had always made a habit of staying after hours, bumming candy and sodas and chatting while they watched whatever movie was most popular with the family video customers that week.
it was for research purposes. how were they supposed to be the best damned family video employees in hawkins if they didn’t know what their customers liked? the snacks were just payment for the overtime, when you think about it.
eddie and his six pack were a newer addition to the tradition.
they’d all been hanging out more; steve getting dragged to d&d games that eddie was the dungeon master of by dustin, robin bringing dates back to eddie’s trailer because his uncle worked nights and didn’t ask any questions when he was home. eddie had even smoked steve and robin out a few times, casually telling them to meet back at his after they all split ways to drop the kids off.
it’d been gradual, easy, natural. steve had to admit it was nice having a guy his age (or at least not a kid) to hang around again. eddie was a lot more interesting than tommy ever had been. steve had even listened to a couple of eddie’s tapes, the music on them way different than anything steve had listened to before, but he kind of liked them.
okay, so, maybe steve kind of likes eddie. so what? it’s not like the time to confront that is now, in the back of the family video, with john travolta in tight pants on the screen in front of them.
no, steve would much prefer to confront his bisexuality basically anywhere else.
and he wouldn’t be confronting it, or hard in his jeans, or so scared to sneak a look over at eddie to see if the sexy cowboys are effecting him at all, if robin was here. if robin hadn’t abandoned him (them, but steve is taking this personally) to go on a date with some pretty girl she met at the grocery store last week after she already picked out urban cowboy to be their movie for the night.
in retrospect, steve and eddie could have swapped the movie out for something else before they started it. robin had backed out last minute, like, being on the other side of the door when she locked up and explaining through the glass door so she could run away before steve could bitch at her last minute, but they still had plenty of time to trash her pick and make their own.
they could be watching nightmare on elm street and shrieking like girls right now, steve mourns. he would take the embarrassment of pissing his pants over a horror movie than his current state any day.
he hadn’t known, though, could not have predicted just how urban the cowboys would be. he hadn’t seen the movie before, even though it’d been out for years, and he doubted eddie had either. didn’t seem like his kind of thing.
it doesn’t really matter at this point. the movie is on and not ending anytime soon. steve is turned on and his boner doesn’t seem to be going down anytime soon, either.
he is fucked.
suddenly, and horrifying, there is a heavy, ring-clad hand resting on the pillow in his lap. steve freezes. he still can’t will himself to look over, to look at eddie’s face.
there’s too many possibilities for what he’ll find there. disgust, judgement, those are unlikely but possible. mocking amusement, that would be rough. steve hates being the butt of any joke, but this one would hurt a little different.
what he’s really scared of, what he thinks he might just curl up and die if he looked over and saw written across eddie’s face, and what seems to be the most likely, is arousal.
eddie’s face is so pretty. his skin is smooth, pale, eyes framed by pretty curls and lips that seem perpetually red, like every time steve looks at him eddie has only just bitten them. it makes steve’s stomach hurt on a good day, when eddie’s just returning a glance or holding a conversation.
steve might cum in his pants, under the pillow that’s under eddie’s hand, if he had to see him turned on too.
so instead, steve freezes. he is hot between his legs but the rest of his body is ice cold, skin prickling.
it feels like someone has poured hot, sizzling oil over the top of his head when eddie speaks, voice deeper than usual. “ are you hard, steve?”
steve gulps. eddie’s rubbing his hand back and forth over the pillow, his middle finger pressing down the hardest while his others glide across the scraggly fabric. steve’s entire body is throbbing, bubbling, from his head to his dick. he closes his eyes.
“yes.”
“cute.”
steve’s neck snaps around now, looking at eddie with a bewildered expression. eddie’s smirking. he looks turned on, yes, but the smugness is enough to keep steve from cumming in his pants. he can’t let eddie’s head get even bigger.
“cute?” steve questions. “you think it’s cute that my dick’s hard?”
steve’s been hard around a lot of girls. that means he’s seen a lot of girl’s reactions to him being hard. no girl has ever called steve’s dick cute.
“i think this whole thing is pretty cute, really,” eddie nods. his eyes shift from steve to the pillow to the tv that has the guy in the mesh back on screen and then back to steve. he smiles wide.
steve’s feeling bold. well, actually, steve’s feeling a little humiliated. it’s unfamiliar. a lot of those girls he’s been hard around, he’s fucked.
he’s good at fucking. he always has been, a natural some might say. his dick is nice, he’s nice too, gentle with the ones who want it that way and rough when they ask for it. he eats pussy. a giver, really. he’s never had a bad review.
all that to say, embarrassment is not an emotion steve has ever felt when it comes to sex. it’s new and steve doesn’t like it.
he feels like a caged animal with only one way out: through. so he moves the pillow. he throws the pillow over his knees and keeps eye contact with eddie as he hears it land with a dusty thud on the carpet in front of them.
steve’s expecting eddie to pull his hand away. he expects that it might fall on his thigh initially, but within seconds eddie will snatch it back like he’s been burned and they’ll laugh like this was all one big joke and steve can say he’s going to get them some more candy and jerk off in the bathroom. then maybe think of ways to kill robin. or eddie. maybe he’ll kill them both.
instead, eddie calls his bluff. his hand is suspended in the air for a few seconds, perfectly still like he knew exactly what was coming. the next second it’s cupping steve’s dick through his jeans.
“fuck,” steve groans, hips thrusting up into the friction and then back down as he tries to shy away. it’s half assed, more of a show than a genuine effort to pull away because wow, eddie’s got big hands.
“well,” eddie starts, bringing steve’s attention back up to his face from where he’d looked down to see how much of his own crotch eddie’s hand covered, “now i know you’re hard. next question: what does it for you? the boots or the hats?”
steve is so bisexual. there is no crisis needed.
the smirk on eddie’s face as he leans farther back into the couch, free hand gripping the arm rest, putting his boot-clad feet up on the little table they use for their snacks one at a time decides it right then and there.
they’re black with heavy soles and thick laces, the boots. they’re not cowboy boots. they don’t need to be, apparently, because steve’s mouth still goes dry at the sight of them.
he’s seen them before, obviously, but not with eddie’s hand on his dick. it’s different.
“boots,” steve whines out. he lets his whole body relax. it’s out, he’s out, his dick is practically out. eddie knows, maybe knew, whatever.
steve is so horny that every other emotion neatly packs itself up and puts itself on a shelf in his brain. he’ll deal with them later. right now, he wants to deal with eddie. or eddie to deal with him. “please.”
eddie’s hand pulls back and moves to steve’s waist, down to his hip.
eddie leans forward, twists himself a little so he can bring his other hand up to steve’s jaw, and kisses him. it’s sweet, sweeter than steve expected it to be.
see, he’d not been afraid of eddie not being gay, just not gay for him.
he’d asked robin about the bandana eddie keeps in his back pocket on the third friday they’d spent together. handkerchief, robin had corrected, making him swear to be cool about it if she was going to tell him. he’d sworn.
he’d been cool about it until the second he’d dropped her off after work, and then he’d nearly wrecked from driving so fast to get home and jerk off.
so maybe steve had some preconceived notions about what eddie munson would be like in bed. or on a couch. or a table. or in the pool in his backyard. okay, maybe fantasies more so than notions.
this, though? this was sweet. even the way eddie licked into his mouth, soft and warm and slow, steve felt like his teeth were going to rot out of his skull as eddie ran his tongue over them.
his hands find the ends of eddie’s hair, too cautious still to tangle or pull, just twisting curls around his fingertips.
eddie pulls back, smiling, kissing the side of steve’s mouth that’s spit slick and hanging open dumbly.
“come here?” he asks, moving back to his side of the couch, back propped up against the arm this time.
steve nods enthusiastically, taking the invitation and climbing into eddie’s lap. his legs frame eddie’s easily, his knees pressed up against eddie’s sides. he tries to sit far enough back that he’s on top of eddie’s thighs, not his dick.
eddie chuckles, takes steve’s hands that are awkwardly hanging at his own sides and slides them around his neck. instantly, steve’s fingers slide into the hair at the nape of eddie’s neck, only faltering a little when eddie puts his hands on steve’s hips and hauls him up, fully on his lap, his hard dick pressing against steve’s ass.
steve looks like a kid in a candy store, looking down at eddie. his cheeks are pink, hair messy. eddie almost can’t believe this is the same steve harrington from high school. he’d been able to reconcile that steve had changed a lot over the years, grown up and become a better person. steve was good now, caring, a man.
this, though? this was a lot to reconcile. manwhore steve harrington who could have had any chick he wanted and did have most of them, in eddie’s lap, looking like it was his turn to be slutty.
eddie was going to slut him out, he’d already decided that months ago, but the real thing, in front of him, wet in his pants over some sexy cowboys? eddie wished he could have had johnathon take a picture.
that would involve johnathon seeing this, though, and that simply couldn’t happen. this version of steve was only for eddie. he’d make sure of it.
“such a pretty boy, steve,” eddie compliments, leaning back against the arm of the couch, continuing to appreciate the sight in his lap.
steve’s been called a pretty boy before, sure, but not like this. not in a way that made heat coil in his stomach like lava. his hands tighten in eddie’s hair.
“touch me?” he asks.
eddie does. he may be in control here, they both know it, he’s got the disposition and the experience, and the hanky, but he’s still weak for steve. that part is still there, steve’s charm, just like it worked on all those girls in high school.
eddie’s hands slip under steve’s shirt and then up, pressing into hot skin until he gets to steve’s armpits, laughing at steve’s reluctance to untangle his hands from his hair.
“lift up, baby,” he encourages. that does the trick. steve obeys immediately. instead of returning his hands to eddie’s hair, he starts to tug on eddie’s vest.
eddie obliges, sits up a little to take the vest off one shoulder at a time and then his shirt, up and over. he throws both of them onto the carpet with steve’s shirt and the pillow.
they take a minute to appraise each other.
steve’s hairy. that’s the first thing eddie notices.
pits, chest, his happy trail, all thick and just the right amount of curly, sticking to his skin with sweat. eddie likes it. he rubs a hand up his chest, through the hair there, up to steve’s neck.
steve’s head immediately falls back, giving eddie room to get his hand under his jaw. he applies a little pressure, watches how steve’s hips rock forward against his own, a small moan falling from his lips. he notes the reaction for later.
later, next time, eddie hopes, in his bed, in his trailer on a night his uncle works and he can have steve all alone and in real privacy. they’re alone now, but they’re also in the back of family video, and it’s just not quite the same. no subspace in family video, eddie decides.
he runs his hand back down steve’s chest, stopping to rub over each nipple, tugs a little at the hair surrounding them. he briefly wonders if steve’s ever shaved his chest, his armpits, if he’d let eddie do it for him. he files that idea away for later too.
one thing he does hope steve doesn’t shave, or trim, or do any manicuring to, is what’s in his pants. his hands pop the button of steve’s jeans, earning him a whimper, and his fingers itch to run through sweaty, course hair.
he’s not disappointed. he gets steve’s zipper down, steve’s hands returning to his hair finally. he rubs his fingertips along the band of steve’s briefs. eddie would have guessed boxers, but he’s pleasantly surprised.
the band is low, probably pulled down by the way their hips are slotted together, and eddie can see the thick happy trail give way to a wider, longer plot of hair. hairs prickle through the fabric, too, thin from wear. eddie can feel his dick leaking in his own jeans.
instead of pushing in, pulling the band down over steve’s dick and under his balls, he starts to rub steve through the fabric.
it’s an off white, probably discolored, and eddie wonders if steve would have worn different underwear if he’d known this was going to happen tonight. he’s glad he didn’t have the chance to.
the fabric is already dark where the head of steve’s dick sits, wet and sticky. steve’s already panting, whimpering eddie’s name in a way that makes eddie weak in the knees even though he’s sitting down. he gasps when eddie digs his thumb into the wet spot, hard.
“fuck, eddie,” steve breathes.
“too much, sweetheart?” eddie asks, earnest. he’s serious, he’s not going to put steve into subspace on the family video couch. there’ll be plenty of time for that kind of thing later, if steve wants it as much as he does. a little pain won’t hurt, though, not if the way steve’s shaking his head no with vigor means anything.
“whatever you’ll give me,” steve’s leaning down, savoring how it increases the pressure of eddie’s thumb against his slit, still pressing hard, “please.”
he kisses eddie’s jaw like he’s not sure he has permission to kiss his mouth and eddie hates that.
he pulls his hand out of steve’s jeans, letting both of them find his face instead, kissing him nice and dirty. it’s still sweet, steve’s chest aching, but now it says something more, says whatever you’ll give me right back to steve.
eddie’s hands are everywhere, steve’s face, his neck, the hair on his chest. he feels like he’s being fucking treasured, the way eddie’s holding him, and he hopes eddie means it. he’s not going to ask, because he was telling the truth, he wants whatever eddie will give him tonight, but god, he hopes he won’t take it away in the morning.
it’s like eddie’s in his brain or sitting on the shell of his ear and reading all his thoughts as they pass through because then he’s answering steve’s unspoken worries, “i like you, steve.”
steve takes a second to catch his breath. he stares at eddie’s swollen lips, knows his probably looks the same, or worse.
“i like you, eddie. i think i might like you a lot.”
eddie laughs. “i’ve had a crush on you since high school.”
steve’s face goes red. “are you serious?” he sits up now, “there’s no way! you didn’t even look my way!”
running his hands over steve’s chest, playing in the hair there again, eddie rolls his eyes, “i looked at you all the time, just not when you could see me looking. wasn’t hard, you always had a girl to look at.”
steve blushes even harder now. eddie thinks it’s cute. steve harrington, blushing about being a chick magnet while he’s on top of a guy.
“okay, so maybe i was a little… slutty,” they both snort. steve runs his hands up and down eddie’s forearms. eddie really seems to like his chest.
eddie cocks an eyebrow. he looks steve up and down. “are you suggesting you’re no longer slutty?”
he expects steve to stutter out some excuses for why he’s spread out in eddie’s lap while that stupid cowboy movie plays in the background that don’t involve being a slut.
instead, steve raises an eyebrow right back. “a slut? i haven’t even had a singular orgasm tonight.”
it’s a challenge. eddie’s always up for a challenge. especially when it involves making steve harrington cum.