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The day after Buck is invited into a polycule, Eddie is hit with a mass of paper and cardboard in the face as he’s lacing up his boots in the changing room. The package bounces off his chest, rolls down his knees, hits the ground.
“What the fuck, Buck?” he snaps.
Buck smirks. “A present,” he chirps, with the unreasonable charm of someone who’s gotten laid very often very recently.
Eddie rolls his eyes, a little harder than he normally would. He picks the package up from the ground. It’s neatly wrapped, all sharp corners and a pretty green-and-red pattern covering it, a ribbon wrapped professionally on top.
“Seriously?”
A shrug. “I had some wrapping paper left over after Christmas.”
It is, unfortunately, incredibly endearing in the way that only Buck is, the amount of effort he puts in, even just for a bit. Eddie tries very hard not to be endeared.
“If this is a Hildy-” he grumbles, tearing the wrapping paper off. He opens the box. He snaps the box closed.
“What the fuck, Buck?” he repeats, hand pressed over the lid of the box like there’s something rabid and feral inside. He tries not to think about the flash of silver, the line of leather, the shape of-
Buck’s eyes twinkle, his dimple deepens. “‘Cos you sounded curious,” he says, a laugh caught in his throat. “I thought you might want one of your own. You know, since you’re not doing anything with it anyways.”
Eddie feels the flush skittle up his neck, over his face. He’s always hated how easily he blushes. “Buck-” he hisses.
“Hey guys!” Ravi strolls in, duffel over his shoulder. “Oh, hey! Is that a present for Eddie?”
“Yeah,” Buck snorts, as Eddie scrambles to shove the box as far into his locker as humanly possible, slipping on a piece of wrapping paper in the process. “I just saw something that reminded me of him, that’s all.”
It torments Eddie for the rest of the shift.
He can’t take two steps without feeling the irrational need to check his locker, to make sure that the door hadn’t fallen off its hinges at some point, or that he hadn't locked it properly. He sits in the engine and avoids Ravi’s eyes, as if their lockers were made of the same glass as their walls, and he could see exactly what sat at the very back. He is hyperaware of the way that his pants rub against his waist, the way that his own (normal, not at all sexual) belt occasionally whispers against his skin.
Buck clearly means it as a joke, is the thing. It’s obvious from the way he smirked, the gleam of his teeth easy and light, the same laughter in his voice as when he’d ordered Eddie that fucking Hildy all those years ago. Clearly, he thinks that it’s just a bit of teasing.
It should just be a bit of teasing. Eddie tries very hard to think of it as a bit of teasing, whenever Buck throws a cheeky smile his way. He tries not to read anything more into the spark in his blue eyes, tries not to remember the exact slant of his smile under club lights to compare its angle to the smiles he throws Eddie now.
But then he’ll actually meet Buck’s eyes, and he’ll see in the blue a flash of silver. His mouth will go dry, for no real reason, and he’ll wonder, insanely, without context-
Did he think about how big my dick was when he bought me the belt?
- and then he’ll pivot so quick that he almost twists something, and go down the stairs to do inventory. Or something. Anything to hide the molten twist in his stomach, the half-chub that he spends almost the whole shift trying to will away.
He tries to be subtle and extremely normal about these thoughts (these very normal things to wonder when your extremely thorough friend who knows you to the marrow buys you a- a sex toy as a gag gift). Still, by the end of the shift, something has shifted on Buck’s face, a crease in his forehead that folds in the shape of concern instead of amusement. It adds guilt to the churning miasma already in Eddie’s stomach, and the way Eddie avoids his gaze even more feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy more than anything else.
Which is to say that it’s not a surprise, really, when Buck slips into the driveway right after him when he gets home.
“Eddie,” Buck says, in the exact tone and tenor that makes Eddie’s entire body go quiet, somehow. Like one of those dog whistles that brings shepherd dogs to heel with one blow. It’s midday, but the curtains are drawn, and the LA sunlight only filters in in stripes of gold. Eddie avoids the light, hiding his expression.
“Man, what a shift. Do you want a beer or something?” he says instead.
Buck takes a step forward, light catching the edges of his gaze and spinning his worry into gold. “C’mon, Eddie. I- I’m sorry, okay?”
Eddie forces a laugh. “What for?”
“For- for taking it too far, I guess,” Buck says. “I know you’re not- the most comfortable with these things. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Buck,” Eddie keeps looking at the wall. “I know it’s a joke. I can take a joke. I was in the military, remember? You think I haven’t been on the other end of jokes like that?”
“Then- why were you avoiding me all shift?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you.”
“Bullshit.” the sound of footsteps over wooden floors. Eddie’s eyes catch on the ground, at the neat alignment of Buck’s feet across from his. “Eddie.”
“Buck.”
“Look at me.”
Eddie’s eyes snap up, and Buck looks startled, almost. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says.
It’s not a question. Eddie feels static in his palms. “It’s nothing, Buck. It’s not about you.”
“It sure as hell feels like it’s about me.”
A snort. “That’s nothing new.”
It hits the mark. Buck flinches backwards, just a little. Eddie watches in flashpoints as he gathers himself, as his pink lips open in a soft exhale, his shoulders slumping. “Just- if it’s not about me, then what is it about?”
“The belt.” Eddie doesn't mean to say it, and he takes a step backwards involuntarily. His back hits the wall. Buck takes a step forwards.
“So it is about the belt.” Buck tilts his head. “Eddie, I don’t- why is it such a big deal? It’s not like I’m saying you should actually put it on.”
“What if I want to?”
The air stills. The light shifts, slightly, falling against the wall that Eddie has been backed into, warming a line along his face, his neck, the bare curve of his shoulder. It feels like a touch.
No. No more lying. It feels like Buck’s touch.
Buck swallows, and Eddie tracks the movement of his throat. “Oh. Oh!” his lip twitches, like it doesn't know whether to go up or down. “That’s- um. That’s really great, Eddie! Or, not great, um, it’s- it’s great that you’re exploring your options, and stuff. You should-” a beat, and his voice comes out steadier. “You should do whatever makes you happy, Eddie.”
And, oh. Eddie’s breath rushes out of him all at once, like something terrible gone to rest. “You really think that?” he says, terrifyingly vulnerable.
“Of course.” Buck looks steadier now, too, as if the ground Eddie is giving has paved steady road for him to stand on. “If- if you want to try this, you should. I always want what makes you happy, Eddie. You know that.”
Eddie does, is the thing. Which is why he goes momentarily insane. “So if I asked you to put it on for me-?”
Buck blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“Of course, Eddie!” Eddie has never quite heard his voice at that pitch before. “If- if that’s what you want. I can help you, obviously. As a bro.”
Eddie nods rapidly. “Yeah,” he says. “I mean- there’s nobody I’d trust more with this.”
And that makes Buck’s eyes go big and watery. “That’s-” Buck smiles. “That’s an honor, Eddie.”
He turns around then, and Eddie feels a single flash of fear that he might just- leave, after all this. But then he reaches into his duffle, pulls out a package.
Eddie stares. “I-” his throat is dry. “I left that in my locker.”
“I know your locker combo, Eddie,” Buck rolls his eyes like that should be obvious. And Eddie knew that, but there’s something about the way he says it, the air between them- it knocks the air out of him, makes him shiver minutely.
Buck catches it, because of course he does, and Eddie presses his palms against his thighs hard to stop another, more obvious shiver from going through him at the way his eyes darken, golden lashes fluttering for a moment against black and blue.
“You want it on now, right, Eddie?” he asks, too sweet by half. Eddie feels half out of his body as he nods.
Buck hums, satisfied. He walks forward, and there’s nowhere to run, nothing to hide the rabbit-quick rhythm of Eddie’s heart.
The box falls to the floor, and the leather is a stripe of darkness against the pale skin and golden hair of Buck’s hand, forearm. The swirl of silver at the front clinks gently against Buck’s jeans, and as he gets closer Eddie can make out the minute details of the model- the supple softness of the harness, the rose-gold of the lock at the base, the thin stripe of hot pink embossed at the edges. It all makes Eddie dizzy, thinking of the fact that Buck got this for him, that he looked at different belts online or even in a store, thinking about what he wanted for Eddie, specifically.
The tip of Buck’s feet bumps against Eddie’s, and Eddie watches the soft curves and dips of Buck’s beloved face as he slowly presses his palms along Eddie’s sides, drawing out a sharp inhale, a shuddering exhale.
“Mm, relax, Eddie,” Buck tells him, voice so soft that it would probably be lost by the time it escapes the pocket of heat between their bodies. His hands move down Eddie’s sides, to his hips, and Eddie is hyperaware of the leather in one of them pressing against the thin fabric of his shirt.
Then Buck starts folding himself to his knees, movements slow and gentle. Eddie’s eyes track him as he goes down, down, down, so close that the tip of his nose, the divot of his lip, catches on Eddie’s shirt, drags on it slightly before letting it go.
It is, some part of Eddie thinks, almost like a kiss.
When Buck is on his knees, he presses his forehead to Eddie’s crotch, nuzzling against his thigh gently. Eddie moans, startlingly loud, and Buck looks up at him with something like awe in his eyes.
“Gonna open you up now, ‘kay?” he doesn't wait for Eddie to answer, just presses his mouth (his mouth!) to the zipper of Eddie’s jeans, catching the latch with his teeth and dragging it down slow and steady.
“Buck,” Eddie gasps, hips shifting forward instinctively. Buck’s hands keep him in his place, though, and Eddie can only watch as Buck lets go of his zipper, a thin line of spit connecting his lower lip to the metal.
Buck drags his jeans and underwear down, not letting Eddie move at all. Eddie whines a little, helpless with it, too gone to think about what this all means. His cock falls against his thigh, more than half-hard in the balmy air.
“Buck, please-”
“I can't put this on you while you’re hard, Eddie,” Buck murmurs, half-teasing. “That’s kind of the whole point of the belt.”
Eddie, absurdly, feels a prickle of tears against his waterline. “Please.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Buck tells him, so gentle that it bruises. “I’ll take care of it.”
And Eddie hiccups out a moan as Buck tenderly swallows his cock, throat clicking as he takes Eddie down whole without a blink. Eddie shakes, whines, begs as Buck just holds his cock there, swallowing around him periodically, throat pulsing around him.
“Buck, Buck, please- I need-” Eddie tries to shift, to get any movement on his cock. He’s getting closer, slowly, but it hurts, the burn of arousal too little and too much at once.
Buck just hums around him, holds him still with thick fingers and competent palms. Waits.
It takes no time at all for Eddie to reach the precipice, but he wants to sob when he realizes that he can't quite fall off. He’s close, so close. He just needs a single flick of Buck’s tongue, an inch of movement, a-
Buck looks at the tears trailing down Eddie’s cheek, and quietly, lovingly, he presses Eddie down firmly with one hand, lifting the other to smack sharply against the thickest part of Eddie’s thigh.
Eddie gasps, his eyes roll back, and he comes down Buck’s throat.
Buck keeps his mouth around him afterwards, for just long enough that the overstimulation sends a fresh wave of tears down Eddie’s cheeks, before sliding his dick out of his mouth.
“There,” he rasps into Eddie’s inner thighs. “That’s better.”
The words press his teeth to Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie feels a sharp disappointment when he lifts his head without sinking his molars into Eddie, without drawing blood.
He almost forgets that there was a point to Buck sucking his soul out of his dick, but then there is a cool press of metal to his oversensitive cock, and he twitches helplessly as Buck slowly feeds his dick through the silver cage, the swirl of silver ice-cold after the heat of Buck’s mouth. The temperature change makes him shake, not knowing if he wants to rut forwards or flinch away. Buck presses his mouth to Eddie’s thigh, wet, open kisses that make Eddie melt against the wall in increments.
“That’s it, Eddie,” Buck murmurs. “You’re so gorgeous like this. You’re always pretty, but fuck, this is something else. I got this in just the right size, you know? I know you so well, Eddie. Better than anyone else. I’m so glad you trusted me with this. I wouldn’t have let anyone else touch you like this-”
It all floats to the same place in Eddie’s mind, where there is only warm breath and cool metal and Buck’s touch like safety, like home. He’s still oversensitive, but it’s fine because Buck is handling him. Buck is holding him so gently, pushing his soft, wet cock through the cage until it’s enveloped fully. Buck is strapping him in the belt, looping it around him, securing it until it sits snug against the dip of Eddie’s waist. Buck is pressing one last kiss Eddie’s cock through the metal, warm lips and cold silver, before twisting the lock into place, the sound sharp in their little bubble. Eddie half-sighs, half-moans, as Buck smiles at him like a secret.
“There,” Buck says, folding himself back up, tugging Eddie’s pants up with him. He’s rumpled, a little. There’s a few creases in his shirt, a wetness at the edges of his lips, a thickness at his crotch. He catches the direction of Eddie’s gaze, and smiles. “‘S fine, Eds,” he says, comforting. “No big deal. This was about you, remember?”
And Eddie swallows, blinks, presses his hands to his sides, one palm catching at the edge of something that still stings pretty and perfect.
“Okay,” he says, with the press of the metal Buck locked him in against his cock, the kiss of leather Buck strapped him into pressing into heat in the shape of Buck’s palm. “Yeah, Buck, thanks.”