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magnoliabutters · 2 years

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• CAN YOU TAKE IT ALL? •

pairing: eddie munson x steve harrington

summary: the munson-harrington friendship gets a tad bit more complicated.

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; st spoilers; ptsd-related nightmares, first kiss, fluffy fluff, smutty smutty, oral, etc.

word count: ~5.7k

support your writer: reblogs for the steddie boys 🤤

note: my dear staffi, your 1k is 1k% well deserved. i could think of nothing better than to honor @seidenbros with a steddie smut fic. this is inspired by my homie @steveshairychest post and miss staffi's thoughts, as well as the nightmares mentioned in her beautiful steddie post. this story is set in a cannon divergent universe post season 4’s events. i hope you like it! also i will say there’s a lot of back and forth so i hope it’s not too too confusing 🥹 there’s also a narrator type of feel in there, idk my adhd brain’s like mad scattered so good luck?

prompts included: (1) scars tell the story of where we’ve been, they are a part of us, and you show that to your loved one with kissing all of their scars, (2) “you taste like heaven, and I can’t get enough,” & (3) “will you stop talking, or do I have to make you shut up?”

He will never forget that red thundering sky.

The sounds crash above him. His instinct is to look up, but he keeps his eyes focused as the demobats spiral around him. His grip tightens onto his shield. He knows he is going to die. He knew that when he decided against going through the portal in his living room. When he walked away from Dustin’s screaming pleas. He wanted to be a coward no more. He would need to die to ensure the party’s safety - his safety. He is fine with this. He honestly could not think of a better way to go. He just prays it will be quick.

He watches as the bats seem to alter their flying at the sound of each clap of thunder. His mind begins reeling. What can he do to use this information against them? He feels the fear bubble up through his chest. He yells out to give himself the bravery he desperately clings onto. He thrusts his spear into the tornado of bats just to be met with their attack. He holds as much as he can back with his shield but they overwhelm him. He falls.

Once recognizing the floor pressed against his back, he knew it was time. It was his time. He uses the shield to cover as much of his body as possible. He feels hot strikes of pain through his shins and thighs. He cannot help but scream as he grips tighter onto his shield’s handle. They are killing him and it is not quick. He feels every single bite. Each bite plays on repeat in his head.

One wraps it’s tail around his throat. He cannot breathe. He quickly digs his nails against his own skin, struggling to put distance between his neck and the tail. Panic hits him like a train. His entire body is in this confusing mixed state of stillness and desperation. He is moving in slow motion, perpetually stuck in death.

Steve wakes to a thumping sound. His eyes open widely. His body is startled, but swiftly ready for action. Was it happening again? Was Vecna coming? Or was it the demodogs this time? Did they come back? He raises from his bed and continues to listen. He keeps his eyes on his closet, knowing he has a shotgun waiting for him. A gun he purchased back when he found out the truth about Barbara - how close death was. How was he never meant to feel safe in his home again.

He hears a voice. Eddie’s voice. The mental grog from waking up blurs his mind, but Eddie’s voice pulls him through. He remembers that he invited Eddie to stay with him while they both heal and particularly while he is technically still on the lam. As much as his voice calms him, an interesting reaction he notes, it sounds a bit troubled now. He quietly stands from the bed and walks towards his parents’ room - where Eddie was sleeping.

Steve feels worry as he tip-toes down the hallway. He does not want to scare Eddie, but something is wrong. The altruistic side of him would never be able to ignore that, let alone fall back asleep. He hears mumbling again and suddenly a scream. He bursts in the through the door, quickly scanning the room for any threats. He stands above Eddie who wriggles in his sheets. His brows pressing in and out as he mumbles in his sleep.

Part of Steve is clearly concerned. The other part could not help noticing the sleeping beauty below him. His lips supple. His hair thick and incredible. His shirt cut at the shoulders. His biceps on full display. From far, Munson looks scrawny but from where Steve stands, the boy has muscle. Quickly, he pushes those thoughts from his head. His face scrunches as he struggles to ignore the light hearted feeling of letting in that type of thinking.

Steve has only felt this way towards two people in his life, despite the trail of people he has left behind in his high school career. The feeling of his heart being drawn out of his chest. He felt it with Nancy. He feels it again with Eddie. It caught him off guard. Nothing prepares you for a sudden longing of a guy, especially when you pride yourself as a ladies’ man.

Steve felt a brief attraction to Billy Hargrove when he so aggressively beat him in basketball. It definitely had nothing to do with his personality - how could it? But how he pushed against him, with that sweat-filled bare chest. There was a moment where anger and annoyance subsided, and Steve did not mind being pushed around by Hargrove’s strength. Of course, this thought was pushed down deeper than the pits of hell. Especially after he heard what Billy had done to Max and Lucas.

Once Dustin began high school, Eddie became a prominent person in Steve’s life - whether he liked it or not. Dustin loved this guy, compared this guy to Steve. Anger and jealousy fueled his mind anytime “Eddie Munson” was discussed. Yet, when he finally met the man, he felt a spark. Eddie jumped out of nowhere and pressed Steve against the shack’s wall, hard. A hand on his collarbone and a broken bottle dangerously close to his juggler.

Steve initially thought the spark was the fear and adrenaline pushing through his body. He rose his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. Once Dustin started talking, Eddie began to let his guard down, placing space between them. It gave Steve the opportunity to look into those gentle chocolate eyes and see the genuine sincerity and beauty within them. He knew in that moment that every incredible thing Dustin said about Eddie was true. He had to know more. The spark, he now recognizes, turned into a red hot flush to his cheeks…

As another disturbed mumble falls from Eddie’s lips, Steve is pulled from his thoughts and lightly pats Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie,” he whispers. “Eddie, it’s just a dream.” He continues to mumble, his movements more jagged. “Eddie,” he says louder. He shakes his shoulder and sits on the edge of the bed. He begins to stress, wanting to remove him from this scary state. He shakes a bit harder.

Eddie’s eyes shoot open. His breathing heavies as he grips onto Steve’s shoulder. “Eddie, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Steve soothes. “Where’s Dustin?” he mumbles on as his brows pull together. Eddie struggles to grip onto reality, but he recognizes the mattress and sheets below him. He realizes it is not the upside down’s floor plastered against his back. He pulls his eyes towards Steve’s. “Steve?” he asks out of breath and still panicked.

“Hey, yeah. I think you had a bad dream,” Steve answers as he places his hand upon Eddie’s chest. “You’re safe.” Eddie watches with confused eyes. He feels comfort from Steve’s warmth but still lost in bouncing thoughts between what is real and what is not. His eyes travel towards Steve’s hairy chest and green pajama pants hanging by a draw string. He immediately pulls away and places all his energy on not staring. Steve’s eyes are focused upon his hand. He’s both shocked and overjoyed with his hand’s placement. Ambiguous thoughts flood his mind.

Where Steve has hidden his attraction, even from himself, Eddie has always been straight forward with those he’s closest to. At first, Eddie was not the biggest fan of Steve. He even told him so. Dustin spoke of him at length. Each conversation that surrounded Harrington just reminded him of every conversation he had in school. Everyone spoke of him and his gorgeous hair.

Yet, when Eddie finally had the opportunity to interact with Steve, all that changed. Through the danger, gore, and fear within the weeks filled of Vecna, Eddie felt a burning inside of him. He recognized immediately that Steve was someone special and that he wanted more. He had no care in the world and openly flirted with him any chance he got. He particularly enjoyed the confused looks of the members of his party. Not to mention a shirtless Steve wearing his denim vest? Eddie was done for. So when all that shit was finally done and Steve asked if he wanted to stay at his house, Eddie did not hesitate.

“Thanks,” Eddie says with a shaken tone as he lifts himself from the bed, resting back on his palms. Steve lightly pulls away as his focus has shifted back to concern. He remembers the last time he saw Eddie like this. It was a horrifying sight. He walked up on Dustin cradling Eddie in the darkness of the upside down. Henderson’s tears falling upon Eddie’s lifeless face as blood pooled at the edge of his mouth. They thought he was going to die. But Steve was going to work his damned hardest to make sure that didn’t happen - especially not in front of Dustin.

As gently as he could, Steve flung Eddie over his shoulder and ran into the trailer. He heard a grumble and a wince. Both sounds that burst energy through his body. He was alive. He and Dustin worked together to hoist Eddie through the portal. Nancy and Robin were shortly behind. They both quickly jumped into the roles of doctor as they treated his wounds with bandages and disinfectant. Steve can still hear his screams when they dowsed his injuries with alcohol. Steve wanted nothing more than to run to him in that moment. To comfort him - hold him. Instead, he watched from the corner of the room, gripping tightly onto his chin as he bit his trembling lip.

Eddie’s eyes flick towards Steve. He observes the shift in his face’s expression. His first instinct is to raise his hand to his face, pull him back from whatever thoughts clouded him. He strongly stops the urge, clearing his throat. “Steve,” he says softly. Quickly Steve’s eyes look back into his. “Sorry,” he laughs and pushes his hand through his hair. “It’s okay,” Eddie says softly. “Get lost in your thoughts?” Eddie asks. Steve turns to look at him with a smile. “Something like that,” he replies innocently. “Yeah, that happens to me too,” Eddie nods as he looks down at his hands on his lap.

Steve took that moment to realize that he may have overstayed his welcome. He stands and gestures a goodbye. “Well, I’ll let you get back to bed,” he says as he turns towards the door. Panic rushes through Eddie. He isn’t ready for Steve to leave. “Wait,” he says loudly. “You can stay if you want,” he coyly murmurs.

Steve reaches the door handle and turns back to Eddie. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m sure, Harrington,” Eddie reassures with a smile. The devilish smile that Steve has been waiting for. It quickly eases his worry and melts his heart, all at the same time. Most of all, it pulls a big grin upon his face. Eddie has the best smile, whether you would like to admit it or not. And Steve will admit it.

With a failed attempt to not be awkward, Steve sits at the foot of the bed. He rests only a few inches away from Eddie's feet. Eddie stifles a laugh as he watches. "You can sit up here," he chuckles as he pats the bed beside him. Steve laughs at himself. "I wasn't sure what would be weirder," he mutters under his breath. "Hm, I think the sitting at the edge of the bed is weirder," Eddie says with a bit of flare.

Steve shrugs, amused, as he stands and walks over to the other side. Surprisingly, he lays back onto the pillow comfortably and without hesitation. His feet cross in front of him. He intertwines his fingers as they rest upon his stomach. Without looking at him, he gently asks, "Did you wanna talk about it?" Eddie turns towards him and smiles as Steve's eyes remain down. "It's nothing too bad," Eddie tries to downplay. "Just some nightmares after everything that went down."

That was enough to pull Steve's eyes towards Eddie's face. Eddie watched as his sweet honey hazel irises peer into his soul. They were so full of anguish and worry. "But it's okay. It's not that bad, remember?" he tries to reassure. Steve's brows continue to furrow as he watches in sadness. There is a certain twinkle to his eye that Eddie doesn't recognize.

Steve pulls his eyes from Eddie once more. "When I first got dragged into all this, I had nightmares every night for at least 2 months straight," Steve says solemnly. Eddie listens intently, now his turn to worry. "I had a few months of life going back to normal, which - I knew wouldn't last. But then the demodogs showed up-" he shares. "Demodogs?" Eddie asks. His mind immediately screams at him for interrupting. Steve turns back towards him with a small smile. "Yeah, they're like smaller versions of Demogorgens," he answers. "You know about Demogorgens?" Eddie scoffs. "It's what the kids call it - I don't know," he laughs. "Just talk to Henderson. He'll give you the whole run down."

Eddie smiles as his eyes fall upon Steve's. "I'm sorry I interrupted," he murmurs. "What were you saying?" Steve could swear his heart stopped beating for a second. Those sweet eyes give him all the pleasure and all the comfort he could ever want. "After Vecna, the nightmares came back for good. I haven't had a good night sleep since," he weakly laughs. "I wake up to the slightest of sounds and if I manage to get to sleep, I dream about those bats choking the life out of me." Eddie's heart races as he hears Steve's account. He almost forgot that Steve was attacked by the bats too. That he shares the same wounds - physically and mentally.

"I've been dreaming about them too," Eddie sighs as he plays with the blankets. With a deep breath, he plasters a brave smile on his face. "I'm just happy I made it out alive." He places a hesitant hand upon Steve's. "Thanks to you," he whispers under his breath. Steve could not help but blush. He pulls his eyes from Eddie's touch, as if not to bring attention to it. "You would've done it for me," Steve says. Eddie laughs, "I'm not sure I would've been able to do that." Steve joins him in a nervous chuckle. "What do you mean? You wouldn't have come back for me?"

Eddie pats his hand on Steve before holding it against his own laughing abdomen. "I don't think I'd be able to carry you, dude," he tries to say through bursts of laughter. Steve chuckles as he pulls his head back onto the headboard. He smirks and playfully punches Eddie's bicep. "You wouldn't be able to carry me with these muscles?" he scoffs with an eyebrow raised. Eddie smiles at his touch, but quickly wiggles it away. "Maybe I could," Eddie mumbles under his breath with a shrug. Steve grins as he looks back at those gorgeous eyes of his.

"I would have never left you there. No matter what," Steve murmurs with a shake of his head. Eddie pulls the side of his mouth and nods. "I would do the same for you," he whispers. Steve recognizes the sincerity in Eddie's eyes. Eddie enjoys the warmth in Steve's smile. They sit there for a few seconds, which feels like hours. But for the two of them, hours are not enough.

Steve's heart races. He can feel his pulse in his ears. Nerves rush through his extremities. Happiness fills his chest. Eddie feels a pit in his stomach. His muscles tighten as he struggles to remain calm. He is caught off guard by this reaction. He usually only feels this when he's nervous before a show. Luckily for him, the usual adrenaline that follows shortly rides throughout his body. Without a second thought, Eddie slowly leans closer towards Steve. His eyes focus on his supple lips, hoping that this isn't a mistake. Before Steve could even think, he places his hands on Eddie's cheeks and pulls him into a kiss.

Now, this is not your typical first kiss. There is no sweet peck and pulling away to look into each other’s eyes. No. There is a huge fire burning deep within Steve and Eddie. It’s been building for months. And it finally has a way out.

Steve’s hand travels towards Eddie’s ear. He intertwines his fingers within his brunette curls. Eddie bites into the kiss. His neck extended as his body slowly follows. He notes that Steve’s lips are supple and sweet - sweeter than expected. His ringed hand feels cool against Steve’s cheek. The painful longing they both felt now turned into an aggressive match of love.

Eddie’s fingers grasp harshly against Steve’s skin. Steve’s body scoots closer to his, eventually toppling over him. The ends of his soft hair tickling Eddie’s face. The two struggle to gasp for breaths as they crash their tongues against each other. Eddie spreads his legs as Steve leans between them. Steve’s hand rests upon his waist as Eddie ruts his hips up. Steve could feel that bulge against his crotch. He wants nothing more than to…

Steve pulls away with a gasping breath. His eyes dragged from Eddie’s as he slowly begins to lean up from the embrace. Eddie rests frozen in place, completely confused. “I’m sorry,” Steve mutters as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He crashes back onto his side of the bed. His head leaning onto the headboard as he tracks his hands down his face. “It’s alright,” Eddie says as he watches Steve out of his peripherals.

“I haven’t done anything like this before,” Steve says as he places his hands on his legs out in front of him. His body language screaming “uncomfortable.” “We don’t have to do anything-” Eddie starts. “But I want to, Eddie, that’s the thing,” Steve says with distress, finally turning to look at the chocolate eyed boy. Eddie sighs as the sides of his mouth curl into a smile.

Steve puts his hands to his own face. “Have you done this before?” he asks, peering out curiously from behind his fingers. Eddie softly laughs at the sight. “Yeah, once or twice,” he murmurs. “Oh god,” Steve says as he drags his hands down his face. “Harrington, it’s okay,” Eddie soothes. “Let’s just take this slow.” Steve sighs in relief as he shakes his head. “I can do slow,” he whispers. “Yeah,” Eddie says as he places a hand to his shoulder. “That way we’ll have a better story to tell our grandkids.”

Steve’s head shoots up, “Hey! That’s not slow!” Eddie bursts into laughter. To the point where his knees are at his chest. His hand at his stomach. Steve can’t help but chuckle alongside him. “I’m kidding, Harrington,” he manages to mumble between laughs. “You are too easy.” Steve smiles as he rolls his eyes.

“Eddie?” Steve asks with a softened tone. Eddie smiles as he directs his attention torwards the god of beauty in front of him. “Do you mind if I sleep here, with you, tonight?” he asks. A tightness balls in his chest. Eddie can’t help but smile larger at his request. “Yes,” he says. Steve immediately beams. “But only if I get one more kiss,” he adds.

Steve bites his lip as he leans in towards Eddie. They both close their eyes as their lips meet in a gentler embrace. Steve pulls back and whispers onto Eddie’s lips. “Good night, Munson.” He turns over and gets under the blankets. The two begin their sleep with their backs to each other. Only to wake up to Eddie resting his head upon Steve’s chest, and Steve’s arm caressing Eddie’s back - pulling him closer.

Not much has changed for the Harrington-Munson friendship. One month later and a handful of heavy make out sessions to show for it. The biggest change was that neither of them slept alone anymore. Since that first night, they have slept in the same bed. They have slept better than they ever have. They both had no intention of sleeping without each other again.

After a long night of Eddie trying to teach Steve how to play dungeons and dragons, Steve finally was able to suggest saying goodbye to the group. “I’m not at all surprised that you chose a Paladin,” Dustin says with a sheepish laugh as he packs up the dnd game. Eddie smirks from across the table. “Yeah, I still have no idea what that means,” Steve says as he grabs another chip from the designated snack bowl.

“I would’ve thought he’d been a Cleric,” Will shares with a shrug of his shoulders. “Big boy’s got the energy for both. Don’tcha, Harrington?” Eddie says with a tilt of his head. Steve watches his taunting smile with hunger in his eyes. “Still got nothing,” Steve says with his hands thrown up. “We’ll be back next week,” Mike says as he waves for Lucas to stand up. They clearly have somewhere to be.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve says as the boys rush to the front door. “Next week?” His face full of confusion. His face squished together in worry. “I thought this was a one time thing?” Eddie smiles, biting on one of his rings, as he softly laughs. He adores the man. “Yeah, we made our characters and next week we play,” Lucas says dumbfounded. “What did you think we were doing here, Steve?” Dustin asks with a chuckle. “I thought we were just making characters. Isn’t that what you guys do?” Steve asks, pushing a hand through his hair and raising his other hand. “Yeah, and then we bring our characters into battle,” Will says sarcastically as he shares an annoyed glance with Mike.

“Okay, okay. Whatever next week,” Steve says, shooing the gang away. Eddie immediately stands and begins to clap his hands. “Let’s go boys,” he yells. “We were just leaving-” Mike whines. “Up-up-up,” Eddie interrupts. Steve smiles as he watches him from the side of his eye. “That doesn’t sound like leaving, Wheeler.” Will laughs and quickly grabs his die. “Quick feet, Beyers. Let’s go!” Eddie claps closely at Will’s back, enough to make him hop and skip to the door.

With confused faces and devilish laughter, Eddie got the boys out without much of a hassle. He closes the Harrington’s front door and flicks the lock. He turns with his arms held high and bows before Steve. Steve watches amused but with teetering brows. "You're welcome," he says with that demon smile. "Thank you," Steve scoffs as he crosses his arms against his chest. Eddie walks over to the couch and flings back with dramatic intent. “Alright, Harrington. Come ravish me,” he says with a deep breath and closing his eyes. Steve laughs as he walks to the other end of the couch. He picks up Eddie’s crossed legs and places them onto his lap as he sits upon the cushion.

“Or … I could ravish you,” Eddie says as he raises his torso closer to Steve’s. His hand is placed against Steve’s chin, pulling his eyes towards him. “Ravish me?” Steve laughs. Eddie leans in with a bit lip. Steve’s lips meet him half way for a short, simple kiss. He pulls back with a sweet grin. “We wouldn’t be doing anything you haven’t done before, Harrington,” Eddie says as his finger travels down his chin to his adam’s apple and to his collarbone. Steve’s eyes light up. “This has all been pretty new, Munson,” he scoffs.

“Oh what, you think because it’s two guys it’s different?” Eddie says with a smirk as his finger tracks down his chest. “It’s still just two people who enjoy each other’s company and making each other feel good.” Steve chuckles as his finger twirls a curl in Eddie’s brunette locks. “That’s one way to simplify it,” he says under his breath.

Eddie plays with Steve’s happy trail and finally hooks his finger beneath his waistline. Steve’s eyes are pulled quickly towards him. The two have spoken of moving forward before but no one has initiated, until now. Nerves send shock waves out to Steve’s body. His touch hesitant and thought out. Eddie smiles as he crawls onto the living room floor and plants himself between Steve’s legs.

Steve watches as Eddie looks up at him with those “fuck me” eyes. God, did Steve want to but he is so nervous. He is more nervous now than his first time with Lacy Pickett. Eddie slowly spreads his legs as his hands smooth out the denim of his inner thighs’ jeans. Sharp breaths leave Steve’s nostrils as his chest tightens and he feels the blood leave his head.

“You can always tell me to stop, Steve,” Eddie says as he licks his bottom lip. “I promise it will be okay. We can try again another day.” He squeezes his hands against his inner thigh, massaging as he playfully taunts his groin. “I-I don’t want to wait another day,” Steve mutters softly. He could feel how hard he was for Eddie. He would not be able to leave without releasing some form of pressure. Eddie blushes as he bites his lip. “We’ll go slow,” he says with a nod.

Steve returns the nod as he reaches for his shirt, pulling it off rapidly. He then gently reaches for Eddie’s, but is met with hesitation. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says as his worried eyes make another appearance. Eddie takes a deep breath as he sits back onto his knees. “I just-,” he laughs, trying to brush off his feelings. “I just haven’t gotten used to the scars yet.” Steve slightly smiles as he completely understands.

“I love your scars,” Steve says as he holds Eddie’s hand. Eddie scoffs as he keeps his eyes down. “They show how strong you are. How much you’ve been through. They are a part of you now,” he murmurs. “They’re disgusting,” Eddie adds with a sheepish smile. Steve shakes his head. “Not to me. To me, they scream bravery and strength. You saved us, you saved me. I love them, Eddie,” he says with all sincerity.

Eddie’s eyes finally make their way back to his. Steve slowly raises Eddie’s shirt, watching him for any sign of discomfort. Bites rest on the sides of his torso. One broke through his spider tattoo. Steve joins Eddie on the ground. He places a kiss onto each scar softly. Eddie jumps at ticklish spots, making them both laugh. “I love them,” he says as he places a kiss on Eddie’s lips. “I love yours,” Eddie adds.

Steve smirks. “So what the hell is a Paladin?” he asks. Eddie quickly shakes his finger no as he returns back on his knees. “No seriously. Can we go over that part again because-” “Will you stop talking, or do I have to make you shut up?” Eddie asks with a daring look. Steve scoffs as a grin sprawls across his face. “You might need to make me,” he jokes. Eddie smirks. “Shut up, and get your ass back on the couch,” he instructs with his finger pointed. Steve laughs with his hands up. He stands and follows Eddie’s demands. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. He sits with his legs spread and a growing mass at his groin. He leans back into the couch in excitement.

Eddie carefully unbuckles Steve’s belt. He lightly pulls it around his waist. Their eyes remain on each other. He then unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down. Steve lifts himself up so that his pants could pile at his ankles. Eddie glances at the thickly lined cock hidden under Steve’s boxers. Eddie could feel himself hardening at the thought of it. His tongue presses against the roof of his mouth as excitement hits him like a wave.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he tugs onto his boxers. Steve quickly leans forward to place a sweet hand to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since we met in that shack,” he says with all sincerity. Eddie is speechless, completely frozen in shock. Not once did he imagine Steve returning the level of attraction and affection that Eddie had for him.

Without any more words being said, the two knew in that moment that they are not just a fling. They are not a curious experiment. They are not a frivolous mistake. There is something real between them. Something special, something they have never had before.

Eddie’s smile grows as he pulls down Steve’s waist line. Steve’s hand now behind his curled locks as his eyes remain on Eddie’s. A small gasp escapes Eddie’s mouth as he catches a full glance at the thick, girthy cock in front of him. The blood rushes quickly down to his groin, but he tries his best to stay on task.

Eddie lightly wraps his hand around its staff as Steve lets out shaky breaths. Eddie slowly makes his way up and rubs his thumb against the bead of pre-cum falling from its slit. He uses it as lube as he begins to strengthen his grasp. His eyes flick up towards Steve, just to see Steve struggling to maintain his slow breaths.

As he quickens his strokes, Eddie’s tongue dances against the back of his front teeth. He struggles to keep it in. Steve’s eyes begin to close as he rests his head back. Eddie can feel Steve's hips grinding against his forearms. He could feel the slight thrusts into his grasp. Eddie’s other hand lays flat and tight against Steve’s upper thigh.

Steve lets out slow, low-toned moans as he wriggles under Eddie. “Oh fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. His grip behind Eddie’s head becomes tighter. “Steve,” Eddie says, breaking Steve’s concentration. “Hold my hair up,” he demands. Steve quickly raises to gather as much of his thick hair as he could.

Eddie lowers his mouth onto the tip of his cock. Steve’s mouth opens widely and quickly shuts with a bit lip at the sight and sensation. Eddie’s tongue wraps around the head as his grasp tightens at its bottom. He lets out a sweet moan as he takes another inch in. Steve’s grasp of Eddie's hair tightens even harder as he watches Eddie take more of him in. “Shit, shit,” he whines as he begins to slowly thrust into his sweet mouth.

“Eddie, fuck,” Steve moans as his hips wiggle. Eddie takes in more as he squeezes Steve’s thigh. He grinds his own cock against the couch’s side. Eddie loves feeling Steve's thick cock in his mouth. It’s grooves and veins excite him, making him salivate. He rubs against it as it lightly rides down the center of his tongue. “C-can you take it all?” Steve softly blurts out, struggling to keep his breath. Eddie smiles at the request and takes in a deep breath from his nostrils. He takes as much as he can, with Steve’s hand guiding him down.

Steve releases a moan that Eddie will remember for the rest of his life. It was sweet, yet dominant. He loves it. He wants to hear it again and again. He lifts off Steve’s cock with drool seeping from the side of his mouth. Steve is still breathing heavily, now with a hand in his hair. Eddie goes back in taking a little bit more. “Shit, Eddie. Oh my god,” he says as he thrusts further into his mouth. Eddie lightly gags but fights to stay enthralled with Steve. He could feel his curls at the tip of his nose.

With a gentle movement, Eddie begins to play with Steve’s balls. Steve quickly and instinctually pulls back as to not overstimulate himself. Eddie begins to circle his tongue around his head once again. His thumb plays with the thick vein underneath his shaft.

Steve feels a familiar pit in his stomach. Without thinking, he begins to thrust into Eddie’s mouth lightly. Eddie encourages him by quickening his movements and licks. Steve thrusts quicker, harder into Eddie’s throat. His mind reeling as he feels his muscles tighten. “Oh fuck, Eddie. Oh god,” he moans breathlessly. Eddie can’t help but smile at the beautiful sounds. He knows he must be close.

The pit in Steve's stomach is growing in size. His toes tighten and straighten out. He feels tingles at the top of his head. “I’m cumming, Eddie. I-I’m cumming,” he yells. Eddie begins to feel the shots of salt within his mouth. The taste that brings an incredible rush of happiness through his body. Steve’s muscles tense and relax as he thrusts into Eddie’s mouth. He releases more than he would have expected.

With a final groan, Steve goes limp. His chest heaving. Sweat building at his collarbones. Eddie swallows and wipes off the drool from his chin. He slowly rises with a smile and sits next to Steve with his arm resting behind his head. “That was different,” Steve murmurs with his eyes slightly opening. Eddie’s brow peaks in curiosity. “It was better,” he adds with a light laugh. Eddie rolls his eyes and playfully bumps against his shoulder.

“Come here and kiss me,” Steve says, barely able to move. “Let me brush my teeth first,” Eddie answers with a smile as he attempts to stand. Steve quickly grabs his pants to pull him back down. “No, kiss me,” he whispers. Eddie’s smile pulls to its side. He gently pushes back strands of hair from Steve’s sweaty face. He places a soft kiss upon his lips. “You taste like heaven, and I can’t get enough,” Steve whispers between kisses. Eddie smiles until his cheeks hurt.

note: i think my perspective has slowly shifted to eddie the pansexual god and steve the bisexual hoe. and i love that. please let me know what you think! shall there be more? who knows. i hope you like it staffi! check her out @seidenbros (you won't regret it)

✨don’t forget to reblog and/or comment lovelies!✨

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

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howaboutcastiel · 1 year

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Does It Show Again?

Summary: Steven is injured and Marc underestimates his strength. Layla doesn’t have cell service. Gus and Fish get a sister. 4.1k words

Content: angst. Lots of other stuff? This chapter is plot heavy but also feelings heavy. Hurt/comfort? Canon-typical injuries, Layla talks some more about the trafficking ring, with some details that might be upsetting. Marc talks about Randall. FWMS Masterlist.

They named the dog Nadine.

As it turned out, Layla was still in love with the staffy she had come across after her impromptu date night with Steven. She had loved the sweet puppy so much that she was convinced she had to have her. After several hours of talking it over with Steven and Marc, she had made a trip to the store to buy everything from food to a kennel to squeaky toys, and then another trip back to the shelter. They charged her next to nothing to adopt the stafford terrier. She had been waiting for months for an owner and no one had chosen her. Well, Layla was happy to give her a home.

Except, she still had work to do for Taweret. So Layla’s dog quickly became Layla’s and Marc’s and Steven’s dog, and the boys agreed to stay at Layla’s with the pup when she traveled for work. That’s what Marc was meant to be doing now, as Layla was halfway across Europe in a place so removed from cell reception that she hadn’t gotten a word out to him in days. He was meant to come home from dinner with Mrs. Bamford and greet Nadine with a walk and a night-time play session.

Her little tail wagged frantically as Steven stumbled through the door, covered in blood.

Making it home was a blur. After Mrs. Bamford had convinced him to evade the police, he had run mindlessly in the direction of central London. He couldn’t exactly catch the bus in the state he was in. Eventually, he managed to hail a cab to Layla’s flat. The driver didn’t ask any questions about his appearance. Just as long as he got paid, Steven supposed. So he handed the man some cash and mumbled out the address of Layla’s apartment complex. It wasn’t until he was settled in the back seat that the adrenaline began to wear off of him. By then, the pain in his body radiated from more than his fists.

That’s when he discovered that the switchblade hadn’t missed his skin afterall. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it was broad and solid. Steven had pressed against his chest to keep the blood from spilling out onto the leather seats.

Nadine wasn’t very pleased with the way he ignored her. Steven made a B-line for the guest bath, tugging his shirt up over his head. He felt ready to faint at any moment, but he tried his best to focus on his breathing as he rinsed the blood from his hands. Steven was grateful that his hand wasn’t broken, but his knuckles were certainly raw.

‘I’m sorry.’ Marc’s voice rang desperately. His shame was palpable. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

“‘S alright,” Steven slurred. He pulled a towel from the cabinet and pressed it firmly to the wound between the ribs on his right side.

‘Let me deal with that,’ Marc offered. ‘I’m the one who got us into the fight. You shouldn’t be the one in pain.’

Steven shook his head. He leaned back against the wall for support, breathing shallowly. “I don’t mind it so much.”

‘C’mon, man. We got stabbed. I know it hurts like hell.’

“It’s a graze at best.” Even though he felt Marc trying to push his way to the front, Steven stayed put. He had never been in physical pain like this before, Marc had made sure of that. He had always assumed he was too weak for it, and Marc had always assumed Steven couldn’t handle pain like that.

But Steven felt just fine.

There was something harrowing about the wide gash in his side. Something calming about the rings of broken skin around his bruised knuckles. Steven might have even leaned into the feeling, except for the black spots that formed in the corner of his eyes when he did. Not to mention how much Marc Spector found his serenity to be disturbing, given the circumstances. Still, Steven was handling the pain just fine, and he had no trouble at all keeping Marc from the front as he continued cleaning his wounds. He had just finished bandaging his non-dominant hand when Nadine ceased her whining at his heels.

“What is it, sweet girl?” Steven could feel the weakness in his breath as he cooed to the puppy. She only turned her head and left the bathroom, moving to sit patiently at the front door. “I’m sorry. I have to finish this before we go on our walk.”

But Nadine perked her ears and wagged her tail at the door. Steven shook his head, remembering that saying the word walk would only make her more excited. He turned his attention back to his hands, which were swimming in his vision by now. The wound in his side was still bleeding steadily and he was covered in a layer of thin, cold sweat. He kept working as tunnel vision started to creep in. He struggled to unfurl the wrappings that he was trying to put on his other hand. Again, he propped his weight against the wall, swearing. This time, he leaned into the pain, even though it was weakening him.

There was a scratching metal noise outside, like the rattling of keys against a lock, and Nadine had started whining again. Steven closed his eyes. He needed to focus and get through this, quickly. The door opening registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but the front of it was focused on his hands and his side. He moved his bandaged hand up against his ribs.

“Hello, gorgeous!” A voice rang from the door, high-pitched and tired and singsong-y. Steven smiled, still not having opened his eyes. Some clattering let him know that Nadine had jumped up into Layla’s arms to greet her. “Are you here by yourself?”

And then a beat of silence. The entryway light wasn’t on, but the one in the bathroom was. The door was still open and Steven was just out of view of the front door.

“Marc?”

When Layla spotted him, he could hear the way she frantically ran to his side. Her voice was dripping with worry and her hands cupped his face. Steven struggled to open his eyes.

“Marc!”

He scoffed lightly. “Not Marc.”

“Steven?” Layla’s eyes flashed across his body, surveying his wounds. “What—Why are you…? What happened to you?”

Layla guided him to sit on the couch. Steven didn’t protest as she did it, not that he had the energy if he wanted to. His breathing had gone from steady to shallow to labored. He hardly had the strength to hold the towel to the wound on his side anymore.

“Just a home invasion,” he quipped. Layla didn’t find it funny. “At Mrs. Bamfords. Don’t worry, she’s safe. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Let me help you with that.” She gestured to his ribs. The towel covered the wound and the blood streaming from it.

He shook his head. “I can do it myself. You should go walk Nadine. She’s been cooped up all day.”

“She can wait a little longer,” Layla insisted. “You can barely open your eyes, Steven. Let me patch you up.”

He sighed, leaning back against the cushions. Steven hoped he wasn’t bleeding on the couch.

“Alright.”

Layla didn’t say much as she bandaged his hand, except to point out that his left one was certainly sprained. She made sure he still had relatively free use of his fingers. It was only when she pulled Steven’s hand away from his ribs—laying her eyes on the blood-soaked towel and the wound in his side that was still streaming red—that she found her words again. She tried to keep her voice calm, but she wasn’t used to seeing him bleed. Not without the suit there to heal him.

“This is going to need stitches.” She tilted his head in her hand, making sure he was listening. “You might want to let Marc take over for this. They aren’t very fun.”

Steven smiled at her, like he found her suggestion amusing. “I can handle it.”

Layla wouldn’t admit what that look and those words made her feel. She just nodded at him.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, then. I’ll be right back.”

When Layla returned with her needle, thread, and bandages, Steven was sprawled across the couch. His work pants and boots were still on, but his chest was exposed. He kept his eyes open and on her, an adoring expression on his face as she entered the room. The puppy was at his side, her head resting on the couch just beside his face. Layla settled on the floor opposite his chest.

“I can turn on the TV, if you’d like,” she offered to him. “It’ll go easier if you have something to distract you.”

“No, that’s alright,” he replied. He stared at her for a moment. “Tell me about your trip, love.”

She scoffed. “I’m not sure that’s the kind of distraction you want.”

“I’d still like to hear about it,” he shrugged. “You know we get worried when you’re away. Especially when you can’t get to a phone.”

“Yes, I know.” Layla wiped as much blood from the wound as she could. Steven barely flinched. “Every time I get service again, I read the novel Marc sends me while I’m away.”

Steven tilted his head. “You did ask him to open up more. It would help him a lot if it worked both ways.”

“It does work both ways,” she interjected.

He grinned. “Then tell me about your trip.”

Layla folded. Steven was convincing, and he knew he had caught her. That was one thing Marc was never good at—convincing. He usually got his way by throwing punches, which he would never throw at Layla, of course. Steven used his words, and Layla found his method surprisingly effective. But she also found it irritating. She had gotten used to winning arguments with her husband. So, Layla made sure to wait until the first stitch was done before she started her story.

Not that it made a difference to Steven, of course.

“I spent the last few days in New Delhi,” she began. “Taweret started by sending me to Munich, but there’s a problem with the higher-ups in the—”she couldn’t bring herself to say the name that they called themselves.

“In the ring.”

Steven nodded at her, so invested in Layla’s feelings that he appeared to not even notice the needle weaving in and out of his chest. Layla, on the other hand, seemed doubly affected by the combination of the blood and her own recollection of her trip. Steven knew how serious this job was, which was why he pushed her so hard to talk about it. He was afraid of how Layla would be affected if she bottled it up.

She continued. “So I had to follow the team to India. Anyway, there’s a rival operation there that they wanted to merge with. Or, if they couldn’t merge, they wanted to destroy it. Obviously I wasn’t complaining about that idea. Taweret helped me keep tabs on both rings while my team captured one of the big guys in their rival gang.”

Layla’s hands had stopped moving. Steven looked up at her, seeing the hesitation on her face.

“You’re not hurting me,” he offered. “You can keep going.”

But he knew that the hesitation was not for the stitches. Layla was struggling with her story. She didn’t say anything else as she wove the next stitch in his side, focusing on keeping her hands from shaking.

Steven changed his tone to be more gentle, more deliberate. “It’s okay if you’re not ready yet. If something really bad happened, I mean. You don’t have to tell me.”

But Layla shook her head. There was fear in her eyes. “It isn’t that something bad happened.”

“No?” He didn’t understand what was upsetting her.

She bit her lip. Layla couldn’t look him in the eye.

“It’s that I did something bad.”

Steven was quick with his response. It was second nature to him, this sort of thing. “We knew this was going to be hard, right? I mean, going undercover was bound to have some tough moments. Some tough decisions. I’m sure that you only did what you had to, love.”

Layla’s face and neck flushed with something akin to shame. Steven reached out weakly to cup her face, but she turned her head away from his touch. She went back to stitching him up, nearly finished now.

As she continued—hesitantly—her eyes never left his chest. “They wanted information out of him, but he wouldn’t talk. He didn’t think that merging the rings would be a good idea and he was loyal to his own people. He told us to just kill him and be done with it, that he would never betray his operation, and that we would never work together. I thought we were going to shoot him and dump his body somewhere the rivals could see. I could have almost come to terms with that.

But my boss wasn’t satisfied.

He wanted to know everything that man knew, and he wanted it as quickly as possible. All the guys on my team, though, they’re hasty. They’re impulsive. Not to mention, they’re not too bright. They wouldn’t have the patience or the wit to get information out of him.”

Steven understood what she was leading up to.

“But you would.”

She nodded.

Steven thought that there was nothing else to be said, so he didn’t say anything. Layla wasn’t eager to speak up, either. She finished the last stitch on his side, wiping the wound clean one final time before covering it with some antibiotic cream and a layer of bandages. When she picked up the soiled rags and medical supplies and headed toward the laundry, Steven pulled himself up against the cushions in a somewhat-sitting position. Layla came back with a glass of water in her hand, instructing him to sip on it. He grabbed at her, a silent plea for her to sit at his side, and she reluctantly did.

They sat in silence. Eventually, Nadine moved up onto Layla’s lap and Steven moved to lay his head on her shoulder. He was almost asleep by the time Layla’s voice rang out, small and meek as ever.

“I was really good at it, Steven.”

He blinked at her a couple of times, his brain foggy from the blood loss and adrenaline crash. “Good at what?”

Her voice broke around the words. “At making him talk.”

Steven had nothing reassuring to say to that. What could he possibly say? He only weakly stroked her hand as she cried into his hair. Whatever was running through her head, it wasn’t a feeling that he could imagine. He didn’t know how to help.

They were both so tired. Steven and Layla sat still, holding each other weakly until her breathing evened out again. They could have fallen asleep there, enveloped in one another’s pain, if it weren’t for the stafford terrier that hadn’t gotten her walk for the day.

Nadine hopped down from Layla’s lap, whining and scratching at the front door, and Steven didn’t even have a chance to stand up before Layla was by her side with a leash in hand.

“We’ll be right back, habibi.”

Steven simply nodded and watched as they walked out the door.

Marc wasted no time speaking up once they were alone. Steven already had a fair idea of what he was going to say. “I knew something like this was going to happen. That fucking hippo is no better than Khonshu after all.”

“It was Layla’s choice, Marc. Taweret didn’t force her.” Steven took another sip from the glass of water, struggling to swallow it.

Marc wasn’t convinced. “Khonshu never forced me, either.”

“He was manipulating you. It’s different.”

But Marc was angry. “No, Steven. This is different. Khonshu only used me for what I already was. A killer. A soldier. Layla isn’t like that. She would never torture someone. Not even some sex-trafficking bastard who deserves it. Layla isn’t like me. She’s too good. Taweret is doing something to her, I’m sure of it.”

Steven shook his head.

“Maybe you just don’t know your wife as well as you thought.”

~~~

Layla was home all week. Marc and Steven had taken the weekend off from Mrs. Bamford’s, and she had happily informed them that the intruder had been arrested without much questioning. After Layla had managed to stitch Steven back together, he had allowed Marc to take the reins and spend some quality time with his wife. Marc needed it, and she needed it, and Steven was happy to spend some time on the inside, or just silently watch from the sidelines as they rebuilt their marriage piece by piece.

It had been a long time since Marc had had to heal from a fight without the suit. He had forgotten how sore his hands could get. How hard it could be to move around with a row of stitches in his side. Marc tried to hide his discomfort as much as he could—it was his own fault after all, wasn’t it? Did he really even have a right to complain?

He continued to talk with Layla about the details of her trip. She was getting close to the head of the ring, they both could feel it. But Layla was understandably reluctant to talk to Marc about it. She felt far too guilty about her new and improved role in the whole ordeal. Layla couldn’t bring herself to tell him all the gory responsibilities she had come to adopt. She couldn’t talk to him about the way she had that poor man begging for her to stop. How she had him spilling his guts about everything he knew of the ring he served.

She especially couldn’t tell him the worst part of it all. How that small part of her, deep down inside, had enjoyed making him suffer. How she was proud of herself for being so good at it.

And how he hadn’t been the only one.

Layla wasn’t a fool—she knew everything that those people had done. She knew they deserved everything that they got, and she knew she grew closer to the head of the snake with each monster she cut through. Layla knew that her heinous actions only strengthened the trust that the ring had in her, only gave her more power within the group and more opportunity to peek between the cracks in the operation. None of that justified it, though. She also knew that. Nothing changed the fact that she was hurting people, and that she enjoyed it.

She was beginning to understand why being an avatar had broken Marc so completely.

Marc finally found himself able to talk to her. Really, truly talk to her. He’d already shared so much since they first arrived home from Cairo. Now, though, he was almost completely unrestrained. Tiny piece by piece, he had warmed up to her enough to share the parts of his life that he’d hidden from her. The ones he’d hidden from everyone. Marc was finally finding a way to share himself with Layla.

Some things were harder to share than others.

“I can’t remember him that well,” Marc explained. “We were so young, you know? I only got bits and pieces anyway, but it was such a long time ago. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he was ever real.”

Marc was sitting on the floor, the dog in his lap, while Layla sat behind him on the couch and brushed his hair for him. He still couldn’t lift his right arm because of the stitches, and his left hand was sprained too much for fine movement. It was easier to talk to her like this, he supposed. He didn’t have to look her in the eye.

“I only really remember that day. Everything before it is a blur, but I remember everything about that day. Steven had to explain it to me. I used to just think that it was Randall’s tragedy. That I was just a bystander. A witness who should have saved him. I was the one who did that to him—”

Layla couldn’t help but interject. “You weren’t. It wasn’t your fault—”

“It was an accident, I know.” Marc scoffed. “But I felt responsible. Most of the time, I still feel that way. It’s hard for me to really believe anything else, it’s just been my fault for such a long time. But Steven explained it to me. He—he gave me permission, I guess, to not just be a witness. I was there, too. I was just a kid, too.”

Marc cleared his throat, blinking away tears.

“And I almost drowned, too.”

“Is that why you can’t go under anymore?” Layla was almost whispering when she asked.

He shook his head and bore a lopsided smile she couldn’t see. “I don’t know. I guess I did fine with all of the training as a Marine. I don’t really remember. And I can swim just fine, the water doesn’t bother me. It’s hard to explain.”

His smile dropped.

“But when I look up, and all I see is water? Or when there’s no one around and I have to go under? It’s like…

It’s like I’m right back in that cave.

I was taller than him. Just a few inches, and I was thinner. I guess I could squeeze through the rocks? I could keep my head above the water just a little longer? I don’t know. I just know when they pulled us out, I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. I looked over and my mom was doing chest compressions on RoRo. I just remember thinking, “I must already be dead. That’s why no one’s doing CPR on me. I’m already gone. That’s why I can’t breathe.” I was just lying there, alone.”

Marc stopped when he felt a tear run along his upper lip. He hadn’t realized that he was crying, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had never told anyone about those moments afterward. He hadn’t even told Steven.

“There was water in my lungs, is what my dad told me. I spent a couple days in the hospital. Almost missed his burial. My dad barely left my side the whole time I was there. He was worried, you know? I guess my mom was worried, too. But when I came home… that was the end of it. It was Randall’s shiva, and I was still alive, and it was my fault.”

Layla was crying, too. “And no one was there for you? To make sure you were okay?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think they were supposed to be.”

She was almost done with his hair. Layla had managed to convince Marc to add curl cream to his routine, now that she had to do it for him. She was almost positive that he would abandon it as soon as he regained his full range of movement. But, it was fun while it lasted, and his curls were bouncier and wilder than ever. Layla ran her hands through the mop of hair one last time when her fingers suddenly dug into his scalp.

“Ow!” Marc yelped. He turned his head to see her staring off into space. “Layla?”

She nodded her head like she was listening to someone. Her eyes focused on thin air. On something Marc couldn’t see.

Someone Marc couldn’t see.

“You’re sure?” Layla said, eyeing the space beside the TV where Marc assumed Taweret was standing. “That’s halfway across the world from our last lead. Why would they be there?”

“What’s she saying?” Marc asked. Layla shook her head, still listening.

“What if that’s really it?” She hummed nervously. “What do we do when we get there?”

Layla nodded and turned her attention toward Marc. Her voice was low.

“Taweret says there’s a lead in Jacksonville. That this could be the head of the whole trafficking ring.”

His eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to Jacksonville,” she said decidedly. “And I’m going to finish this. I’m going to kill them all.”

Marc didn’t know if it was really Layla talking, or if Taweret had twisted her sense of justice into something else. Either way, Marc knew exactly what he was, and he knew exactly what Layla wasn’t.

And just like Layla, he understood deep down that he needed this. That he was meant for this.

“I’m going with you.”

~~~

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#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #layla el faouly #fire within my soul #moon boys #marclayla #Masterlist

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