#sorry this is SO late on here

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 12 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: some dumbification

“Hi, sweet boy.”

“Hi.”

Eddie flops onto the sofa, his head in Steve’s lap, grinning up at him, and Steve smiles.

“How are you?” Eddie asks, his voice softening like he can read Steve’s face. Steve’s mouth twists, and he shrugs a little bit, combing his fingers through Eddie’s bangs, pushing them back. He wants to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, but he can’t lean down with Eddie there.

“Okay,” he says, his voice quiet.

“What’d you do today?” Eddie asks lightly, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinks, and Steve smiles in spite of himself. He’s so pretty.

“My mom called before I came over.”

Eddie wasn’t here when he arrived. But he keeps a spare key under his doormat, and now it lives on Steve’s keychain.

“How’d that go?”

“The usual,” Steve sighs, running his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “She asked about my classes. About friends.”

“You tell her about Robin?”

“No,” Steve says with a scoff. “If she knew I was best friends with a girl… She’d think we’re falling in love, and then she’d ask if Robin goes to church, or if she’s accepted Christ as her saviour,” he adds, imitating his mother’s voice, and Eddie snorts, scrunching his nose adorably. “Better to let her think I’m lonelier than I am.”

Eddie hums. He’s quiet for a moment, somehow tilting his head even though he’s laying down.

“You always seem sad when you talk to her,” he says softly.

Steve shrugs again.

“It’s hard to talk to her,” he says. “‘S frustrating.”

“She sounds difficult,” Eddie says.

Steve nods.

He traces the bat on Eddie’s neck, dragging his fingertip over its face.

“You finish your homework?” Eddie asks, and Steve scoffs again, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Makes me sound like a kid.”

Eddie sticks his tongue out at him. Steve giggles and covers his mouth with his hand, laughing again when Eddie just licks his palm.

“Sit up,” Steve says, patting his cheek, and Eddie does, suppressing a smile as he moves to lean against the back of the sofa. Steve moves to climb on top of him before he’s even settled, sitting on his lap and falling forward to tuck his face into his neck, pressing close.

Eddie wraps his arms around him, rubbing his back tenderly, sighing.

“How was work?” Steve asks, mumbling into the side of Eddie’s neck.

“Fine,” Eddie says softly. “Missed you.”

“Sap.”

“Ass.”

“You like my ass.”

“I really do,” Eddie sighs.

His hand slides around to it, and Steve grins, arching his back and nuzzling into Eddie’s neck and Eddie squeezes, kneading gently.

“You didn’t tell me if you finished your homework.”

“I did. Why?”

“Just making sure you don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“Anything else?”

“Other than me.”

Steve snorts.

“Thought you were supposed to do me.”

“Relationships go both ways, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Steve says, sighing heavily even though he’s beaming now. He hasn’t smiled all day, but when he sits in Eddie’s lap, face tucked into his neck to smell the vague alcohol and cigarettes and everything Steve isn’t supposed to fall in love with, his cheeks are sore.

He opens his mouth, exhaling against Eddie’s neck before he kisses him slowly. Eddie hums softly, tilting his head to give him space, and Steve kisses him again, slipping his tongue up his jaw.

“You’re fucking with me,” Eddie says, his voice low, and Steve giggles, humming in disagreement.

“You taste good,” he says softly, licking his neck again.

“I taste like a bar.”

“You taste like you.” He bites Eddie gently, sucking his skin between his teeth and licking, nibbling lightly. Eddie’s hand tightens on his ass, squeezing, his fingers digging into his flesh, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “That feels good.”

Eddie hums softly.

“Take your shirt off, honey.”

Steve nods, shuddering as he leans back, and he reaches for the hem of his shirt. His grip is too loose and he drops it as he lifts it before he tries again. Eddie is laughing, and Steve’s cheeks flush with heat as he smiles bashfully.

Eddie helps him tug his shirt over his head, setting it aside with a soft groan.

“My pretty boy.”

Steve shivers, sliding his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, his gaze falling shyly.

“Look at me,” Eddie says.

Steve looks at him.

Eddie is smiling, his eyes shining, and Steve wonders if this feeling is ever going to fade. This achey feeling that makes him feel like he’s going to burst into tears.

Eddie’s hand is a little cold when he touches Steve’s chest, spreading his fingers to take up as much pace as possible, squeezing his pec. Steve suppresses a smile, and Eddie grins, biting his lip as he does it again and then runs his hand across his chest, squeezing the other side.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods, exhaling. Eddie tilts his head fondly, watching him carefully as his fingers close on his nipple, pinching teasingly, as Steve holds his breath, biting his lip, stifling a weak moan. “Sweetheart.”

“Mhmm.”

“Kiss me.”

Steve leans down and crashes their mouths together, reaching to hold his face, cradling his jaw. He feels like he might pass out, like his vision has gone black, like his heart is beating too fast. Eddie’s tongue slips past his lips, and Steve lets his jaw drop, lets Eddie lick into his mouth.

Eddie’s fingers inch down his chest, pressing into Steve’s belly, feeling him, holding him, pressing and squeezing until he finds the drawstring of Steve’s sweatpants. He tugs gently, questioning. Steve nods, letting out a weak sound.

“Please.”

“Stand up for a moment,” Eddie says gently, patting his hip, and Steve does, swaying, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he steals himself on Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie smiles up at him fondly as he pulls at Steve’s sweatpants, tugging them down with his boxers. Steve’s cheeks are hot as he steps out of them, letting Eddie toss them aside to join his shirt.

He pauses before he starts to climb onto Eddie’s lap again, watching as Eddie reaches to undo the fly of his jeans. Eddie is suppressing a smile, opening his jeans, pushing them down a little as he lifts his hips, and Steve exhales, his hand tightening on Eddie’s shoulder.

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, gesturing, and Steve climbs onto his lap, his head dropping as his dick touches Eddie’s.

“Oh, God.”

Eddie laughs softly, kissing him, reaching up to cradle the back of his head, and it’s tender, and sweet, and loving, until his fingers curl into his hair and pull sharply, tugging his head back. Steve lets out a noise that doesn’t even sound like it comes from his throat, too high, too weak, his eyes rolling back. Eddie licks a line up the side of his neck.

He hisses when Eddie bites him, closing his eyes and gripping Eddie’s shirt tightly. He whines, hips shifting, rubbing against Eddie.

“Spit for me,” Eddie murmurs into his ear. Steve forces himself to open his eyes to find Eddie’s hand between them, palm upturned. Steve holds his wrist as he lets spit gather in his mouth, as he spits slowly. “Good boy.”

Steve smiles deliriously, and he feels inebriated again, like he’s drunk or high or something, like Eddie is making his way into Steve’s bloodstream. Eddie’s hand wraps around both of them, spreading Steve’s spit, and his rings are cold against the heat of Steve’s skin.

“Eddie—”

Eddie’s hand pauses, and he looks up at Steve.

“Color?”

Steve whines, shifting his hips again.

“Green,” he chokes. “Green, fuck, gimme more.”

Eddie grins. His hand moves again, tightening, and Steve sighs, closing his eyes. Eddie hums, his voice rough in his throat.

“Watch,” he says softly, his voice low.

Steve forces his eyes open again, and he’s looking at the ceiling for some reason, so after a brief moment of orienting himself, he lowers his gaze. He looks at Eddie’s hand, at the way their skin is shining.

“We’re so pretty,” Steve slurs. Eddie grins.

“Yeah, we are,” he whispers.

He quickens his hand and Steve grits his teeth, his muscles tensing, letting out guttural sound that makes Eddie giggle.

“Oh, God—”

“That’s it, baby. Feel good?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Eddie is still laughing, his eyes shining brightly, and Steve can’t even feel annoyed, because he’s so hot, it’s fucking ridiculous. Steve kind of wants him to be mean to him. To make fun of him. To laugh at him. To tease him mercilessly, until Steve is sobbing, begging.

Steve groans, gripping Eddie’s shirt tightly. He’s trembling, and he can’t stop shifting on Eddie’s lap, swivelling his hips, jerking into Eddie’s fist.

“Come here,” Eddie says after a moment of gazing up at him, and Steve whines when Eddie’s hand disappears before it slides to the small of his back. He lifts Steve up, sliding his hands down his thighs to guide his legs around his hips.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes, his voice breaking. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut as Eddie carries him out of the room, trying to steady his breathing.

Eddie sets him down gently, kissing him.

Steve loves it when he kisses him.

He always kisses Steve like the world is ending, like the sky is falling. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to kiss him.

Steve whines into his mouth, letting his tongue fall so Eddie can lick it, and he grabs at Eddie’s hair, his fingers gripping it tightly enough that Eddie grunts.

Eddie’s hand slides to his chest and squeezes his pec, and Steve hums.

“Stay here,” Eddie whispers. Steve whines, frowning. Eddie laughs. “I’ll be right back.”

He kisses him again before the heat of his body disappears, the bed shifting as he leaves, and Steve opens his eyes, lifting his head to look at him. He’s turned away, tugging his shirt off, and his hair lifting to expose the tattoo on his back. Steve’s eyes trace the line of his spine, the dimples just above the waistband of his jeans.

Steve lets his head fall back to the bed with a groan, and he suppresses a smile when Eddie laughs again. He hides his face behind his hands, his back arching as he lets out a desperate whine. He hears the bedside table drawer open and close, and then the mattress shifts as Eddie crawls over to him.

“Fuck,” he says. His voice is too loud. Eddie’s skin is cool on his, his inner thighs pressed to Steve’s hips, pinning him into the mattress. “Eddie.”

“Hi, baby.”

There’s a click of plastic, and Steve opens his eyes blearily, lifting his head. Eddie's naked now, glowing. He’s got a small bottle in his hands, and he’s suppressing a smile as he pours a clear liquid into his palm.

“You okay?” Eddie checks quietly.

“Yes,” Steve gasps, nodding.

“You know what to say if it’s too much?”

Steve nods again, breathing a weak Yes, holding back a weaker Sir.

“Good boy,” Eddie whispers, leaning down to kiss Steve’s chest, and then his hand is touching Steve’s dick, and it’s slick and warm and Steve might be dying. “Feel good?”

Steve whines.

“Yeah—”

Eddie hums condescendingly, rubbing, and then he shifts on Steve’s lap, moving forward, taking them both in his hand. Steve writhes, looking up at him.

His cheeks are red. He’s smiling.

Steve’s hands find Eddie’s thighs, and he squeezes as he looks at the ceiling.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says weakly.

“Thank you, sweet boy.”

Eddie tosses the bottle aside and presses his hand to Steve’s belly, rubbing and squeezing tenderly. He leans over, holding himself up on Steve’s torso, and his hair falls around his face as he hits his dick against Steve’s. Steve groans, clenching his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Eddie, ‘m gonna come.”

“Already?” Eddie teases brightly.

Steve whines, his face hot as he listens to the sound of Eddie’s hand moving, the sound of Eddie’s breath hitching.

“Fuck,” Eddie chokes, his weight shifting on top of Steve. “I shouldn’t make fun of you, I’m so close.”

Steve giggles deliriously, lifting his chin, pressing his head into the bed.

“God, you’re amazing,” Eddie murmurs, pressing his thumb under the head of Steve’s dick. “So fucking beautiful, baby, you’re perfect.”

Steve whines, watching Eddie’s hand, watching his stomach tense as grinds against him.

“Stevie, baby.”

“Mm.”

“Where do you want it?”

Steve groans, lifting a hand and gesturing to his chest, breathing out a soft please. Eddie laughs softly, squeezing his pec.

“Such a slut,” he says fondly.

“Yeah,” Steve whines, nodding at the ceiling. “J’st for you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie says, his voice soft and sweet and condescending. “You my little slut, baby boy?”

Steve nods, reaching to hold Eddie’s thighs, gripping him so tightly he might leave bruises. It’s not that he particularly wants to leave bruises on him, but he also doesn’t think Eddie would mind. And Steve can’t really unclench his hands, not when Eddie is calling him his slut, when he’s groping and squeezing and tugging at his chest.

Steve moans, his hips lifting off the bed to press to Eddie’s, and Eddie lets out a rough noise that’s almost a fucking growl. Steve does it again, looking up at Eddie, who nods, half-smiling, his hand moving quickly over their dicks. And Steve wants to hear him make that sound again, wants to hear his voice all rough and ragged.

“Eddie—”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie says breathlessly.

“Talk to me—”

Eddie leans down and kisses him messily, licking across his mouth.

“You wanna hear me?” he breathes, nudging their noses together as they shift against each other. “You like it when I talk to you?”

“Yes,” Steve breathes, nodding, squeezing Eddie’s hips.

“What do you wanna hear?” Eddie whispers, kissing him again. “You want me to tell you you feel good? You sound so pretty?”

Steve groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

“‘Cause you do,” Eddie whispers after leaning closer, his lips brushing Steve’s ear. “Feel so fucking good. So perfect for me, like you were fucking made just for me.”

Steve nods desperately, tilting his head as Eddie slides his tongue over his ear, like he’s making out with it, and it’s weird and messy and gross and Steve is coming.

He lets out a weak noise, pulling Eddie against himself, and Eddie groans, growls, into his ear. Steve is breathing hard, gasping for breath, clinging to Eddie as he pushes himself up.

“Please—” Steve gasps, clutching at him, and Eddie nods, kissing him quickly, panting into his mouth.

“I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice rough. “You want it on your tits, baby?”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, nodding, still writhing, shivering, and Eddie sits up, reaching down to jerk himself off. He’s wet with Steve’s come. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Eddie snickers, leaning over Steve and holding himself up with a hand on Steve’s shoulder, resting his weight on him, and Steve wants him to crush him, to press so hard, so heavy, he can’t breathe.

Eddie grunts low in his throat, and Steve lets out a moan when Eddie comes, hot on Steve’s chest. He holds Steve in place by his shoulder as he fucks his hand, and Steve looks down to watch blearily, his vision blurred as he reaches to rub it into his skin. Eddie laughs breathlessly.

“Slut.”

Steve smiles at the ceiling, rubbing the come across his chest slowly, sleepily.

Eddie relaxes on top of him, resting his weight on his stomach. Steve sighs.

They fall quiet, their breathing slowing. Eddie touches Steve’s chest, dragging his fingers up his sternum, through his chest hair, over the hollow of his throat. And then he’s tracing Steve’s lips, and Steve parts them, smiling as Eddie presses his fingers into his mouth.

Steve moans softly, licking them clean, letting Eddie rub them against his tongue, hook them on his teeth to pull his jaw down.

When he pulls his fingers away, Steve sighs, his head falling back on the bed, and Eddie pats his cheek. Steve smiles.

“Sorry I said tits,” Eddie says, his voice rough, and a laugh bursts out of Steve.

“I don’t mind,” he says quietly.

“No?”

“Mm.” Steve exhales heavily. “Like how you talk about my body.”

Eddie hums and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“C’mon,” he says, finally climbing off of Steve, who whines, furrowing his eyebrows, pouting. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Steve lets him pull him across the bed, groaning, and he opens his eyes, looking up at him.

He’s already looking back, red-cheeked and smiling softly, his hair messy. His neck and shoulders are reddened too, marked by Steve’s hands, and Steve glances down at his hips, where he finds his own fingerprints like they’re stained onto Eddie’s skin. He looks back up at Eddie.

“Kiss me?”

Eddie’s smile widens, and he moves back toward Steve, leaning down to touch his chin, lifting it so he can kiss him tenderly.

“Come with me,” he murmurs against Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve says softly.

─────────────────

Steve’s handwriting is shitty when he lays like this, on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, but it’s comfortable, and he’s tired, so he doesn’t really care. It’s pouring outside, and it’s lulling him to sleep.

He’s almost done with this assignment, and he cares less and less the closer he gets to the end of it. He’s barely trying anymore, letting his face rest on his palm, squishing his cheek, his handwriting lifting off the lines of the paper in his notebook, scribbly and sleepy.

“You almost done?”

Steve just groans in response, and he hears Eddie chuckle behind him as he comes into the bedroom. Steve is on the floor, legs stretched out behind him, books and papers scattered in front of him within reach. He’d started working when Eddie went to cover someone’s shift at the bar, and he was still working when he came home. Eddie had gone to the kitchen to clean, had gone to shower, to dry his hair.

“How close are you?” Eddie asks, letting out a soft groan as he lowers to the floor, and Steve glances behind himself, smiling as Eddie lays down, resting his head on Steve’s ass with a sigh.

“Few more minutes maybe,” Steve says, looking back at the paper. He scribbles out a word that’s almost illegible and rewrites it. “‘M bored.”

Eddie hums, his head shifting, and he squeezes Steve’s thigh gently.

Steve works, his vision more clear as he focuses on Eddie’s weight against him, his handwriting still awfully messy because he’s writing faster now, desperate to finally be done.

He lets out another groan when he finishes, shoving away his notebooks and tossing his pencil aside as he falls to lay flat on the ground, letting his face press to his arm. Eddie laughs softly, squeezing his thigh again.

“All done?”

Another groan.

Eddie laughs again, rolling over, and Steve smiles against his arm as he feels Eddie’s arms rest across the backs of his thighs, his face pressing against Steve’s ass.

“You comfy?” Steve mumbles into his arm.

“Very much so, yes.”

Steve snorts, and he sighs, reaching back to touch Eddie’s head, pushing his fingers into his curls; they’re almost dry, and Steve tries not to snag any tangles.

“How’s your homework?” Eddie asks. “You think you did good?”

Steve makes a non-committal sound, shrugging, letting his fingers curl into Eddie’s hair.

“Who cares,” he says dryly.

“Probably your parents.”

Steve groans again.

Eddie’s hand tightens on his leg and he sits up, making Steve’s hand fall aside. Steve sighs, already missing his warmth, but Eddie comes back, laying on the ground next to him and sliding his arm around his waist. Steve shifts closer, closing his eyes and pressing his face to Eddie’s chest. He smells like his soap. Steve can hear his heartbeat, gentle and steady, and the rain turns to white noise.

“You ever think about dropping out?” Eddie asks after a moment, running his hand through his hair, playing with the ends, twisting them around his fingers.

“Every day,” Steve says honestly.

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Can’t though.”

“I’d support you if you did,” Eddie says softly. Steve smiles.

“‘S nice.”

Eddie scoffs.

He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, and Steve wraps his leg around Eddie’s, pulling him closer, sliding a hand around to the small of his back and slipping his hand under his shirt. His skin is warm from the shower, and Steve sighs again, holding Eddie tightly, like he wants to absorb him, like he’s trying to let their skin melt together.

The rain gets louder. Hits the roof and the window steadily, obstructing the light from outside. Steve presses closer to hear Eddie’s heart.

“Jesus,” Eddie says quietly. “Rain’s louder ‘n skeletons fuckin’ on the roof.”

Steve blinks his eyes open.

“What?”

Eddie laughs, and Steve can feel it on his face, can feel the vibrations from it against his cheek, and he lifts his head, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at him.

“What did you say?” Steve says, grinning, staring at Eddie and his eyes shine up at him.

“I said,” he says pointedly, tilting his head, his hair getting caught on the rug. “The rain is louder that skeletons fucking on the roof.”

Steve stares at him for another moment before he bursts into laughter, dropping onto Eddie’s chest. Eddie giggles, wrapping his arms around him, and he rolls them so he’s on top of Steve, pressing him into the ground and burying his face in his neck. It tickles.

Steve tries to fight him away, but he’s laughing too hard to push him again, his eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks sore. Eddie is heavy on top of him, blowing raspberries in his neck and digging his fingers into his sides. Steve squeals, finally reaching for his hair and tugging it sharply, which makes Eddie laugh, his breath warm on Steve’s skin.

When Eddie finally lifts his head and crashes their mouths together, grinning, reaching to hold his cheek. Steve giggles into his mouth, sliding his hand under his shirt again. Eddie’s tongue slides into his mouth, slick and warm and pressing behind his teeth clumsily, and Steve hums, tugging at his hair.

Eddie is still grinning when he lifts his head, and his smile softens as he looks at him. Steve’s lips are parted, and it takes a moment for him to open his eyes.

Eddie’s hair is falling around them like a curtain, hiding them from the overhead light, and Steve reaches up to tuck it out of the way, holding Eddie’s head gently.

“What?” he says quietly when Eddie doesn’t say anything.

Eddie shrugs, his eyes flickering across Steve’s face.

“Just…” He holds Steve’s waist absently, his thumb brushing back and forth slowly. “I really like you.”

Steve’s stomach flutters. He tilts his head.

“I really like you too.”

“…Really?”

And Eddie does this sometimes. Teases, complains that Steve must actually hate him because he doesn’t let him slide his cold hands under his shirt. But it comes out so earnestly in this moment, his voice soft like he doesn’t mean to say it.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice softening. “Of course.”

Eddie blinks at him. His thumb brushes back and forth again before it stops, and Steve pushes his hair back again.

He pushes Eddie back gently, sitting up, and he holds onto him to keep him close. They sit across from each other.

“What is it?” Steve asks, pulling at Eddie’s leg so he wraps them around him.

“‘S nothing,” Eddie says lightly, dismissively, but Steve’s hand tightens.

“Baby,” he says softly, leaning closer, meeting Eddie’s eyes. It makes Eddie smile a little bit. “What’s going on?”

Eddie looks away, taking a breath, pausing, and Steve waits, running his fingers over Eddie’s shin. He’s wearing shorts, and when Steve looks down, he can see the wing of the moth wrapping around the back of his leg. He traces it lightly.

“I keep… like, thinking that I…”

Steve looks at him again, but he’s looking down at the ground between them.

“That I’m like, an experiment for you,” Eddie says, his voice quiet, and he looks up at Steve, who frowns. “Which— I don’t wanna sound like an asshole, I’m sorry, I—”

“You don’t sound like an asshole,” Steve says gently, squeezing his leg. “Tell me.”

“I just…” Eddie bites his lip as he pauses again, looking away for a moment. “I keep thinking that you, like— you’d gonna decide that…”

Steve reaches over and takes his hand, linking their fingers gently. Eddie squeezes gently.

“That you wanna… focus on God,” Eddie says finally. “And you— you won’t wanna be with me.”

Steve exhales, his heart falling.

“Eds—”

“Which,” Eddie interrupts, his hand tightening on Steve’s. “I mean, if you— if you do, I— I’ll respect that, obviously, I— I want you to be happy, I just…”

“Eddie,” Steve stops him, tugging at his hand, prompting him to look up at him, and Steve’s throat is tight. He pauses for a moment and then leans in to kiss him gently, slowly, staying close when they part. His lips brush against Eddie’s when he speaks. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Eddie smiles a little, but Steve can tell he doesn’t believe him, so he kisses him again, harder, reaching to hold his face. Eddie lets him, his lips parting, his head falling back, and Steve presses closer, his legs around Eddie.

They’re both quiet when they part again, sharing breaths, holding each other.

“I don’t…” Steve starts, his voice rough. “I don’t know what I believe about, like, God. I think I’m… leaning toward, like. Atheism. Like…” He pauses, his heart beating faster, and Eddie nods, listening intently as he holds his waist gently, firmly. “I don’t… I don’t really believe in God.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

The words tumble out of his mouth clumsily, like he’s not fluent, like he’s unpracticed, and he feels cold. He suppresses a shiver, fingers tightening on Eddie, holding him like he’s about to slip away.

“But—” His voice cuts off, his throat tight, and he blinks his eyes, clearing his vision. “I believe in— in this.” He squeezes again. “This is real. I know it is. I can— I can feel it.”

He leans forward and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes and taking a breath. Eddie’s hand smooths over his back gently, calming.

“I believe in us,” Steve says softly, whispering. “It sounds so stupid, but…”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve exhales.

“Do you… Do you remember what you said that day we met?” he asks quietly. “About… God’s presence?”

Eddie hums, his nose brushing over Steve’s.

“Kind of,” he says. “Tell me.”

“You said… that God’s absence brings you more peace than his presence.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like that.”

Eddie looks at him, leaning away enough to see him clearly. He doesn’t have any of his piercings in, and he looks odd without them, his skin bare except the subtle holes in his skin.

“Yeah?” he whispers. Steve nods.

“You…’

Steve reaches for one of Eddie’s hands, taking it gingerly, and Eddie lets him, his other hand smoothing over his head, brushing through his hair. Steve looks at their hands, at the ink of Eddie’s skin, and he traces his fingers.

“You bring me more peace than God ever did,” he says quietly, whispering to the flower on the back of Eddie’s hand. “Feel safer with you than I do in church.”

Eddie tugs his hand, and he looks up.

Eddie’s eyes are glistening. Steve watches the bat on his throat shift when he swallows. And then Eddie is pulling him into a kiss, his mouth lingering on Steve’s, hands releasing him to reach for his face. And Steve melts against him, placing his hands on his chest, his fingers curling to hold the fabric of his shirt.

Steve pulls away with a slick sound, his hands pressing firmly to Eddie’s chest.

“I—” He takes a breath, looking at Eddie desperately. Eddie’s thumb brushes over his cheek. “Even if I did believe in God,” he says softly. “Even if I changed my mind, and I was— reborn, or whatever.”

Eddie smiles crookedly.

Steve kisses his smile.

“I don’t care what He thinks,” he whispers against Eddie’s mouth. He reaches to hold his face, brushing his thumbs over his skin, scratching his fingertips over his stubble, pressing their foreheads together. “He’s all-powerful, all-knowing. He put you in my path. Had to know I’d fall for you.”

Too honest.

He looks at Eddie nervously, and Eddie is crying, his eyes shining with tears that fall when he blinks. Steve wipes them away, frowning.

“‘S really nice,” Eddie says, his voice weak.

“Can I have a hug?” Steve asks softly, and Eddie pulls him close, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw before he buries his face in his neck.

Steve tucks his arms between them, closing his eyes, and he listens to Eddie’s heartbeat. It’s faster now than it was earlier.

Eddie’s hands are gentle as they run over Steve’s back, over the back of his neck into his hair. Steve loves how he touches him. Always so tender, so gentle, like Steve deserves it.

“Can I have a kiss?” he asks weakly. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie lifts his head, touching Steve’s chin and guiding him into a soft kiss before he whispers to him.

“You don’t ever have to beg for a kiss,” he murmurs. “Okay?”

Steve nods. Eddie shakes his head by his chin lightly.

“Words.”

“Yes,” Steve breathes, nodding again. “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Eddie whispers, brushing their noses together. Steve’s eyes close. “You want a kiss, you take it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Eddie kisses him.

Steve clutches at him, clings to him, grasps his shirt and his hair, and Eddie lets him, treats him so fucking gently Steve feels like he might fall apart if he lets go. Eddie pushes him to his back, his hand steady on his chest, and Steve pulls him down with him, his hands knotted in his curls.

Eddie’s hand presses to Steve’s neck, his palm to Steve’s throat, fingers wrapped around it, and Steve lets out a weak whine, his head falling back.

“Is that okay?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods and then lets out a sharp Yes under his breath.

He pulls Eddie back into a kiss, sighing as Eddie settles over him.

“I’ve been thinking,” he mumbles absently.

“Uh oh.”

Steve snickers. holding the sides of Eddie’s head, tightening his legs around him. Eddie kisses the corner of his mouth and then his cheek.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Eddie asks, his voice muffled by Steve’s skin.

“Uhm.”

He looks at the ceiling, his eyes fluttering shut as Eddie kisses the side of his neck. He buries his hands in his hair, cradling the back of his head, humming as Eddie’s fingers tighten on his neck.

“I think I wanna… wanna try something. With you.”

His face is burning, and he feels Eddie’s lips spread into a smile against his jaw.

“What’s that?” Eddie asks softly, sliding his lips to Steve’s cheek and kissing him there slowly. “Hm? What d’you wanna try, sweet thing?”

Steve exhales shakily, closing his eyes as Eddie’s lips close on his earlobe.

“Mm. Not… Not today but I…”

He stops, face burning with embarrassment, and Eddie hums softly.

“Where are your words?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of Steve’s ear. He presses his hips against Steve’s just enough to make his breath catch.

“Want…” He swallows. Eddie kisses his ear slowly, his teeth catching softly. “Wanna try pen— penetration.”

Eddie grins. He lifts his head and kisses Steve so hard their teeth crash together, and Steve hugs his neck, holding him close as Eddie presses their hips together again. Eddie hums quietly.

“Which way you want it?” he whispers between kisses, tilting his head to lick into Steve’s mouth. Steve groans softly, his fingers digging into Eddie’s back.

“Want you,” he breathes. “Want you to fuck me.”

Eddie’s hip land harder. His breath catches, and he lets out a rough sound.

“You sure?”

Steve nods, opening his mouth, and Eddie licks his tongue.

“Want you inside me.”

Eddie groans softly and reaches to grab Steve’s knee, lifting it to hitch it up on his hip. Steve arches his back, pushing up against him.

“Do you want it?” he asks weakly, hugging Eddie tightly, tilting his head for Eddie to mouth at his neck. “Do you want it too?”

“God, fuck, yes,” Eddie gasps. He slides a hand into the small of Steve’s back, pulling him close as he ruts against him. spreading his legs to be closer. “Would be a fucking honor to fuck you, Stevie.”

Steve giggles, and he pulls Eddie's hair sharply, tugging him away from his neck, so he can kiss him messily. Eddie moans softly, smiling against Steve’s mouth like he’s proud of Steve for not asking, for taking it.

He comes with Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, with Eddie’s fingers around his throat. He presses a hand to Eddie’s back when he stops to look at him, letting out a heavy exhale and nodding, closing his eyes and letting his head fall to the floor.

“Keep going,” he says breathlessly, nodding even though he can’t see if Eddie’s looking at him or not. “Come for me.”

Eddie groans and buries his face in Steve’s neck, breathing heavily as he starts to move again, desperately using Steve’s body, licking his neck and ear and jaw like he’s mindless.

“Fuck, I—”

Steve bites his lip to cut himself off.

But Eddie groans like he knows.

“When do you wanna do it?” Eddie asks.

It’s dark in his room, especially when Steve’s got his face buried in his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, breathing in the smell of his soap and laundry detergent. He can feel Eddie’s heartbeat against his face. He can feel the vibrations of his voice.

“I don’t know,” he says, turning to rest his cheek on his chest instead, so he can hear him. “Sometime soon-ish.”

Eddie hums softly.

It’s still raining outside. Pouring. There’s a vague rumble of thunder somewhere in the sky, but it’s too far away for the lightning to show itself. Eddie’s fingers drag up and down Steve’s bare arm. He isn’t wearing a shirt. Didn’t bother putting one on after getting out of the shower.

“We’ll take it slow,” Eddie murmurs. Steve sighs, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s chest. “Okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Start with a finger,” Eddie continues, his voice soft and rumble. “If you don’t like it, or you wanna try another day or anything, you tell me, alright?”

“I will,” Steve whispers.

─────────────────

“That looks like the smile of a boy that just crushed an exam.”

Steve’s smile is crooked, and he tilts his head, grinning up at Eddie. He tosses his backpack to the floor when Eddie tugs him inside by the lapel of his jacket, letting him drag him into a hug. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes as Eddie pushes the door shut behind him.

“‘M so fuckin’ tired,” Steve mumbles into Eddie’s shoulder, lifting onto his tiptoes as Eddie wraps his arms around his waist. Eddie’s wearing a hoodie, and it’s soft on Steve’s face.

“How’d it go?”

Steve groans.

“Fine, I guess. I’ll find out in a few weeks.”

“Bet you did great.”

“Mm.”

Eddie lifts his head and kisses Steve’s temple before Steve looks up tiredly, opening his eyes slowly. Eddie brushes his hair back fondly before he kisses his mouth gently.

“You eat today?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums. “Ate after I left the exam hall.”

“Good boy.”

“I’m so tired.”

Eddie caresses his face like he’s analysing him, and Steve closes his eyes again, letting him. He likes when Eddie looks at him like this. When Eddie touches him like this.

“Wanna lay down?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods. Eddie taps his cheek firmly, reprimanding him, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat. His eyes flutter open to find Eddie looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Wanna lay down.”

Eddie smiles like he’s proud and he tugs at Steve’s jacket again.

“Take this off ‘nd hang it up.”

Steve does, his movements slow and sleepy, and Eddie watches, leaning against the doorframe before he holds his hand out to Steve to take, leading him to the living room. There’s a movie on the television, paused and staticky, and Eddie sits against the arm rest, gesturing, tugging Steve’s hand.

Steve falls onto the sofa, his head landing in Eddie’s lap, and Eddie laughs lightly, reaching for the remote as Steve gets situated.

He sighs when he’s settled, his eyes closed, and Eddie’s hand runs through his hair.

“‘M proud of you,” Eddie says lightly when his move is playing again. Steve opens his eyes and looks up at him. “I know how hard you’ve been working.”

Steve nods, half-smiling.

“So smart,” Eddie praises lightly, caressing his cheek. Steve’s face flushes with heat, and Eddie’s smile widens. “My bright boy.”

His thumb brushes Steve’s lower lip, and Steve opens his mouth instinctively. Eddie laughs, sliding his thumb into his mouth, combing through his hair with his other hand as Steve closes his mouth around it and sucks.

“Stupid for me, though, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie’s other fingers wrap around Steve’s chin, cradling his jaw, and his voice is rough when he speaks again.

“Open up.”

Steve opens his mouth, letting his tongue follow Eddie’s thumb as he pulls it away, whining. Eddie shushes him gently, wiping his thumb on Steve’s cheek, leaving it wet with his spit, and it’s gross, but Steve lets out a weak hum. Eddie slides his finger in his mouth gently, slowly, tugging his hair when he closes his lips around it.

“Keep it open for me, doll.”

Steve hums weakly, nodding, opening his mouth again.

Eddie’s finger slides over his tongue again before another joins it, pressing down on Steve’s tongue, forcing his jaw open wider. Steve’s eyes open after a moment, and Eddie is looking down at him, smiling, fond.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so I can watch my movie?” Eddie asks. Steve nods. “Words.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he struggles around a weak Yes with Eddie’s fingers firm on his tongue, keeping his mouth open.

“That’s a good boy,” Eddie says softly, kindly, and Steve closes his eyes, groaning weakly. Eddie shifts in his seat so he’s slouching more comfortably, and Steve curls up, keeping his head straight so Eddie’s fingers don’t fall away.

Eddie’s fingers move idly in Steve’s mouth, pressing over his tongue, spreading apart like he’s trying to take up as much space in Steve’s mouth as possible. His other hands plays with Steve’s hair, combing through it, twisting his fingers in it, tugging gently until his scalp aches dully.

The next time Steve opens his eyes, Eddie is looking at the television, almost ignoring Steve completely. Steve whines.

“Thought you said you were gonna be quiet for me,” Eddie says absently, and then he lowers his gaze to Steve and meets his eyes, pulling his fingers away enough for Steve to speak clearly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Can I have your spit?”

Eddie smiles, pausing. He can’t lean down properly with Steve here on his lap, so he lifts his hand to his own mouth, extending his fingers, and he spits on them slowly. Steve watches longingly, his head full of clouds.

“Open.”

Steve sticks his tongue out, and he knows how weird this is, how debauched, how filthy, but Eddie’s spit is warm on his tongue, and it makes him feel beautiful, like Eddie is painting him, creating him with his own hands. Steve sucks on his fingertips. Swallows.

“Sweet little thing,” Eddie murmurs. “This gonna keep you quiet?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly around Eddie’s fingers, reaching for Eddie’s wrist, pushing his fingers in deeper until they’re pressing against the back of his tongue. He hums quietly. Closes his eyes.

He’s quiet.

He doesn’t fall asleep, but he’s somewhere between awake and not. He can’t really feel his body, like he’s floating, like he’s high. Not that he knows what that feels like. But if it’s anything like this, he thinks he understands addicts.

Eddie’s fingers occasionally play in his mouth, like Eddie is fidgeting with him. It makes Steve melt even more.

He opens his eyes after a while, just to look up at Eddie. Just to gaze.

Eddie watches the movie. His thumb brushes over Steve’s chin lightly. He looks down after a while and he smiles when he finds Steve already looking back at him.

“Feel good?”

“Mhmm.”

He’s drooling. Eddie pulls his fingers away, making Steve’s hand fall aside, and he wipes the drool off his chin with his thumb before lifting it to his own mouth, licking it away. Steve smiles, watching.

Eddie’s hand touches his face. The spit on his fingers is already cold on Steve’s skin.

“I wanna do it tonight.”

His voice is breathy when he says it, and he wonders for a moment if Eddie could even hear it. This confession.

But Eddie smiles softly. Caresses his cheek.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s lips grace down the side of Steve’s neck. He’s slow, and gentle, careful as he kisses over his veins, over his pulse. Steve’s hands are in his hair, fingers right in his curls, holding his head.

They sway where they’re standing, arms around each other, skin sliding. Eddie is warm. His skin, his breath, his tongue. Steve never felt heat like this until Eddie. Safe.

Steve feels a little lightheaded. Eddie keeps murmuring to him the way he always does.

“How do I…”

He stops himself, cutting short, because he doesn’t know how to ask it. Does he lay on his back? On his front?

Is it going to hurt?

Eddie kisses him gently, his tongue slipping over his lip, and Steve exhales, his hands sliding over Eddie’s waist and pulling him close. His breath catches when Eddie’s dick presses to his, but Eddie stays in place, holding him close, cradling his face tenderly. He sucks in Steve’s lip for a moment before they part, and Steve could swear he’s been fucking brainwashed or something. He melts, his head falling back a little bit as his eyes flutter open to look at Eddie.

Eddie won’t hurt him. Steve knows it.

“Come here,” Eddie says softly, brushing their lips, and he pulls at Steve’s arm gently. Steve follows easily, watching blearily as Eddie leads him to the bed, opens the drawer of his bedside table and tosses a plastic bottle and foil packet onto the bed. Steve follows as Eddie climbs onto the bed, leaning against the wall.

“Right here, honey,” Eddie says, gesturing between his legs as he spreads them. “Lean against me.”

Steve crawls to him tiredly and turns to rest his back against his chest. His eyes close, and he exhales as Eddie’s arms slide skeins him gently.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers softly, his breath on Steve’s ear. Steve nods before he corrects himself.

“Okay.”

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs. Steve smiles, his cheeks warm, and he reaches for Eddie’s forearms, touching them gently, holding onto him. “You remember what to say if you want me to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Steve takes a breath, melting against him.

“Yellow or red.”

“Good. What’s your color right now?”

“Green.”

Eddie hums, kissing his ear. His hands slide over Steve’s skin, pressing firmly, squeezing his chest, his belly, his arms. Eddie likes his arms. A few weeks ago, Steve got out of the shower and was pulling on a shirt when Eddie pulled it out of his hands and started kissing him, licking and biting and sucking on Steve’s arms as Steve laughed so hard his stomach hurt. There were three bruises left after that, one on his left arm and two on his right, and Steve liked looking at them. Pressing against them.

Eddie’s hand makes its way to Steve’s dick slowly, dragging through the wetness that’s smeared against his stomach and using it to stroke him gently. Steve’s eyes flutter shut. He reaches for Eddie’s other hand, still on his chest, and he laces their fingers.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers.

“Yes.”

“You want me to tell you how this is gonna go?”

“Yes, please,” Steve breathes, nodding.

Eddie hums, nosing at his neck.

“I like those manners.”

Steve smiles, squeezing his hand.

Eddie does that thing Steve likes, pressing his thumb under the head of his dick and rubbing like he’s massaging it, and Steve’s head falls back as his breath catches in his throat.

“I’m gonna get my fingers wet,” Eddie says softly, squeezing his chest again. “With the lube. And I’m gonna press right here,” he says, letting go of Steve’s dick and sliding his hand down, lower, and his fingertip presses to Steve’s hole, gentle and tentative like he’s waiting for Steve to push it away. He doesn’t.

“And I’m gonna put it inside you,” Eddie whispers. “Nice and slow. And when you’re ready, I’ll put another one in you, and I’ll stretch you until you’re nice ‘nd loose ‘nd open for me. Okay?”

Steve nods.

“Okay?” Eddie asks again, his finger still pressed lightly, and Steve wants it.

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

And then the pressure is gone, and Steve wants it back.

“Then what?” he asks, opening his eyes and lifting his head to watch Eddie reach for the bottle next to them, releasing his hand so he can reach across him. Eddie presses a brief kiss to his neck.

“Then, if you wanna keep going, I’ll fuck you.”

Steve’s eyes close.

“How?”

He hears Eddie let out a soft breath, a light laugh, and there’s the click of the bottle lid and a soft, wet sound of skin rubbing, and Eddie’s lips brush the shell of his ear.

“However you want.”

Steve shivers. Eddie reaches back between his legs, and his fingertips are warm and wet as they press against his taint gently.

“Slow,” Eddie murmurs. “And soft. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

Eddie kisses his jaw, smiling.

“Ready?”

Steve pauses, relaxing against him, nodding, before he speaks.

“Can you hold my hand?”

“Of course, baby.”

His hand touches Steve’s, and Steve’s eyes burn for some reason. Eddie’s fingertips are rough with calluses, and he’s warm and gentle and tender, and Steve’s whole body aches. Eddie kisses the side of his neck slowly.

“Breathe for me,” he murmurs. Steve inhales deeply, exhales slowly. “That’s my boy.”

Steve smiles.

Eddie’s fingertip touches his hole again. Rubs slowly, presses lightly.

“Relax,” he whispers softly, pressing harder. “‘S gonna be so good.”

Steve nods, taking another breath. Eddie kisses his neck.

“There you go.”

His finger slips inside, and Steve tightens, stiffening, his eyes opening. Eddie slides his arm around him, across his chest like a seatbelt, and Steve clings to it, hugging it to himself.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly, and Steve nods.

“Don’t stop,” he says breathlessly. “Please.”

Eddie exhales into his neck, nodding. He presses harder, still so gentle, so sweet with him. Steve lets out a sharp exhale when he feels Eddie’s hand, when he realizes Eddie’s whole finger is inside him. He groans weakly, his hips shifting.

It’s a confusing sensation, he thinks. It’s nice, even if it feels wrong.

Steve never knew something wrong could be good.

His chest tightens suddenly, and his grip on Eddie’s arm tightens.

“Talk to me,” he says, his voice higher than it should be. “Please.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, just… Wanna hear you,” Steve says desperately. “Only wanna feel you, please, Eddie.”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Eddie murmurs, kissing his jaw. “Can already tell you’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me.”

Steve moans softly, nodding, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Does it feel okay?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “It… It feels weird.”

“Want me to make it good?”

“Please.”

Eddie’s lips press to Steve’s cheek, and his finger moves. Steve gasps, his back arching, and he lets out an Oh! as Eddie’s finger slides out slowly and then presses back in.

“So good,” Eddie whispers, licking his jaw. “My sweet boy.”

Steve nods, holding his forearm tightly, his other hand dropping to Eddie’s leg and gripping his thigh tightly. His head is cloudy again, his vision almost blurry at the edges, and he’s trembling, holding Eddie tightly so he doesn’t float away.

And it feels good. The switch is kind of sudden, from okay and odd to fucking perfect.

“God, Eddie,” Steve says breathlessly.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” Steve whines. “It feels good.”

Eddie smiles against Steve’s neck, his finger shifting in and out slowly, rhythmically, and Steve is rolling his hips to meet the movements, panting. And all the bad is gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Steve might be glowing.

“Talk to me,” he gasps.

“You’re so amazing,” Eddie whispers without any hesitation, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

Steve laughs softly, his head falling back to Eddie’s shoulder,

“I’m honored,” Eddie says, and Steve can hear his smile in his voice. “Like, actually honored. You’re letting me have this, God.”

“Want you to have me,” Steve says weakly. “Want you to have everything.”

Eddie exhales roughly and his teeth close on Steve’s neck. Steve groans.

“You ready for another one?” Eddie asks, his breath cooling his spit on Steve’s skin.

“Yeah,” Steve chokes. “Want another.”

Another finger presses alongside the one inside Steve, stretching him, and the ache burns. He hisses through his teeth, lifting his head, shoulders tightening, and Eddie pauses, looking at him.

“Green,” Steve says before he can ask. “Don’t stop, please.”

“You gotta relax, honey.”

Steve is panting, and his skin is tacky with sweat already. He nods.

“I…”

“Breathe,” Eddie whispers. His lips brush Steve’s neck, catching against his skin, and that’s what he needs—

“Kiss,” Steve gasps, turning his head. Eddie is smiling when he kisses him, sucking on his lower lip, licking into his mouth. Steve hums, relaxing against him, letting his shoulders fall, and Eddie’s finger presses harder, slipping inside slowly. His other hand slides over Steve’s chest, fingertips raking through his chest hair, until it finds his neck, resting on his throat.

Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth when his finger slides inside him, breathing hard, grabbing Eddie’s wrist tightly and holding his hand in place. Eddie’s fingers tighten around his throat.

“That’s good,” Steve gasps when they part, their chins slick. “Mm.”

Eddie’s fingers are sliding easier now, moving smoothly, prodding and spreading gently. He’s breathing heavily into Steve’s mouth, and his dick is hard against the small of Steve’s back, pressing against him, teasing him. Steve wants it.

“You know what I’m looking for?” Eddie asks quietly, his fingers moving harder. Steve whines, shaking his head. “Your prostate, baby.”

Steve groans low in his throat, writhing against Eddie’s hand.

“I dunno what that is,” he says, his voice slurring. Eddie chuckles softly, nuzzling into the side of his neck.

“‘S gonna make you feel so good,” he says slowly. “Gonna make you light up inside.”

“Sounds nice,” Steve mumbles. He’s still writhing, clutching to Eddie’s wrist with both hands. One of his legs extends and slides under the bend of Eddie’s knee, and Eddie shifts so their legs lock together. His fingers shift again, spreading apart, and he presses deeper.

A loud sound escapes Steve. His head falls back, and his hands tighten on Eddie’s wrist so suddenly it forces his hand against his throat harder, and Steve is on fucking fire. Every cell in his body, burning alive.

He claps a hand over his mouth as he lets out another moan, and Eddie’s hand doesn’t stop.

“Put your hand down.”

Steve drops his hand, grabbing Eddie’s wrist again as he gasps for breath.

“Good, yeah?” Eddie breathes. Steve nods, whining.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “‘S so good. Holy fuck.”

Eddie laughs, giggling against Steve’s shoulder.

“Love it when you talk like that.”

“When I talk like you, you mean?” Steve asks, pushing back against Eddie’s fingers, forcing them deeper, harder. Eddie squeezes his throat for a brief moment, lightly chastising him. Steve exhales roughly, his eyes rolling back before he closes them.

“Yeah,” Eddie says despite. “Like it when I rub off on you.”

Steve giggles, letting his head roll so his face is against Eddie’s cheek.

“Bet you do.”

Eddie scoffs, turning to kiss his forehead.

“Little shit.”

“Be nice to me.”

“This isn’t nice enough for you?” Eddie asks, smiling, thrusting his fingers into him harder. Steve whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Jesus.”

“Gonna make me come.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie whispers. “Let it happen.”

“Can I have another one?” Steve asks in a small voice, shy, and Eddie kisses his forehead again.

“‘Course, baby.”

He pulls his fingers out. Steve whines, writhing, squeezing his writhes. Eddie hushes him.

“Need more lube, baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Steve relaxes, opening his eyes to look. Eddie has to let go on his neck to open the bottle.

Steve looks at his fingers. Thick and rough with calluses and stained with tattoos. He wants them back.

Eddie spreads that lube over his fingers, warming it up, and his hand is shining.

“Eds.”

“Mhmm?”

He reaches for Eddie’s face, holding his chin and pulling so Eddie looks at him as he reaches back between his legs. Steve opens his mouth.

Eddie smiles, reaching to hold the back of Steve’s neck firmly, and there’s a pause before he’s spitting into his mouth. It’s harsher than it’s ever been before, rougher, and Steve groans as he closes his mouth and swallows.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

Eddie kisses him gently.

“Sweet boy.”

Two of his fingers push back into Steve, and he yelps, reaching behind his head to grab Eddie’s hand. Eddie laughs softly, squeezing the back of his neck, shaking him lightly.

“Little whore.”

Steve nods, panting, breathless. A third finger presses against his rim, stretching him open, and he groans, his back arching.

“Yeah,” he whines. “‘M your whore.”

Eddie groans, pushing his fingers in deeper, like he’s digging through Steve’s insides, and Steve would let him. Would let him gut him, eviscerate him, wring his insides dry.

“Wanna put my mouth down here sometime,” Eddie says, his voice rough. Steve shivers.

“We can do that?” Steve chokes, imagining it. Eddie’s mouth on his ass. It’s filthy.

“We can do whatever we want.”

Steve whines, reaching an arm down to catch Eddie’s wrist, and his legs squeeze shut around their arms. Eddie hand mashes against Steve’s balls, and Steve lets out a sob.

“You okay?” Eddie checks, his fingers pausing, and Steve’s eyes open. He grips Eddie’s wrist tighter.

“If you stop I’ll kill you,” he says breathlessly. Eddie laughs brightly, pushing his hands against him harder, deeper. Steve’s eyes roll back.

“You really are a whore, huh?”

Steve nods desperately, shifting his hips against Eddie’s fingers.

“For you,” he chokes. “Just for you, only you.”

Eddie makes a soft sound.

“God, Steve.”

Steve whines, and he hasn’t even touched his dick, but he’s so close—

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Fuck me. Please.”

Eddie groans.

“Are you sure?”

Steve nods again, grinding onto his fingers.

“Wanna come with you inside me.”

Eddie’s hand freezes. His hand on Steve’s neck tightens and grips him, holding him close, panting against his cheek.

“Fuck.”

“How do you want me?” Steve asks breathlessly, his eyes fluttering open to look at him, and Eddie’s eyes are glistening, shining brightly with unshed tears. Steve kisses him.

They stay there for a moment, lips pressed together, Steve’s hands holding Eddie’s face and wrist, Eddie’s fingers still inside him. They’re breathing into each other’ mouths when they part.

“On your back,” Eddie murmurs. “So I can kiss you.”

Steve nods.

They move slowly. Steve mourns the loss of Eddie’s fingers inside him the second they’re gone, but as he moves away from Eddie’s warmth, Eddie reaches for his own dick, stroking it slowly, and Steve melts.

He lays on his back, Eddie’s pillow under his head, and he watches Eddie kneel between his legs. He’s ripping open the foil packet, lips pursed in concentration, and he’s adorable. And beautiful. And everything else Steve can possibly think of.

He’s still breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, and he looks so soft. He looks nothing like Steve.

It made Steve shy at first. How different they are, how beautiful Eddie is.

But Eddie looks at him kindly.

Pets the hair on Steve’s skin, traces his stretch marks like they’re art.

He makes him feel beautiful, too.

Eddie rolls the condom over his dick, reaching for the lube again.

Steve watches helplessly. His cross nestles between his collarbones. They both ignore it.

“Alright?”

Steve nods. Eddie just looks at him, his eyebrows raising a little bit.

“I’m alright,” Steve says, but he chokes on his voice, and his eyes sting. Eddie touches his leg, brushing his thumb over his knee.

“You can change your mind,” he says softly. Steve shakes his head.

“‘M not changing my mind,” he says as firmly as he can. “I just—” He pauses, taking a breath that stutters in his chest, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Feeling a lot. Overwhelmed.”

Eddie leans down and kisses Steve’s knee.

“What do you need?” he asks softly.

Steve swallows.

“I need you inside me.”

Eddie smiles, kissing his knee again.

“Okay.”

He moves closer. Pours some lube on his hand and spreads it over his dick. Touches Steve’s leg.

“Alright?” he checks, one more time.

Steve nods.

“Please.”

Eddie leans over Steve’s body, holding himself up on a hand next to Steve’s shoulder. His other hand is reaching down, guiding himself to press to Steve’s hole.

“Need you to breathe,” he whispers.

Steve nods, inhaling slowly, closing his eyes.

His hands find Eddie’s shoulders. Move up to his neck. Hold him. His legs wrap around Eddie’s hips, their skin pressing, sliding.

“Good,” Eddie breathes when Steve exhales.

He pushes in.

Steve inhales again, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows, his back arching. His eyes flutter open to look at Eddie.

He’s looking back, analysing him, studying him. His cheeks are red. His hair is falling around them.

Steve reaches up and pushes it back carefully, holding it out of the way. He nods when Eddie meets his eyes. His hands tighten in Eddie's hair when Eddie’s hips meet his ass, and he lets out a low groan, his eyes rolling back and closing.

Eddie lets out a ragged breath.

“God,” he says roughly. “Fuck.”

Steve nods again, shifting, writhing.

“Does it feel good?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” Eddie says softly, strands of his hair falling from Steve’s hands and brushing his face as Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead tenderly. “You feel so good, so perfect for me.”

Steve whines, tightening his legs.

“Can you— Can you move?”

Eddie hums. He presses their foreheads together. Drops to his forearm, wrapping his other arm around Steve’s waist, tucking into the small of his back. He pulls out slowly and then pushes back in, and Steve’s back arches more, his head pressing into his pillow as he whines.

And he’s never sounded like this before.

He remembers in middle school and high school when his friends would make sex noises like this, just to be funny. Their voices were always high-pitched, like a girl’s, and Steve always hated it.

But that’s exactly what he sounds like now. His voice is weak, shrill, and he sounds like a woman. But he can’t shut himself up, even when he bites his lip. He covers his mouth with a hand, but Eddie reaches up and tugs it away, pushing it into the bed. Their fingers lace, and Steve clings to him, wrapping his other arm around his neck.

Eddie is grunting into Steve’s neck, his voice rough. Steve listens to it, pushing his hand into Eddie’s hair, tightening, pulling.

He pushes back against him, grinding down, and Eddie lets out a moan, nodding.

“That’s it,” he says roughly, breathlessly. “Fuck, ‘s my good boy.”

Steve nods, whining his name. He buries his face in Eddie’s neck, groaning when Eddie releases his hand and reaches down to his thigh, hiking it up his waist and pressing closer, harder. Their chests press together, Steve’s dick trapped between their stomachs, caught in the friction of their bodies moving together.

“Oh, God—”

He wraps his other arm around Eddie’s neck tightly, hugging him, hiding, his voice muffled by Eddie’s neck.

“Baby,” Eddie says breathily. lifting his head. “I’m gonna come.”

Steve nods desperately.

“Me too, me too, I’m so— I’m so close—”

“Come for me, baby,” Eddie says roughly. “Come on, baby boy.”

Steve sobs.

Eddie fucks him through it, soft and gentle, and Steve’s eyes are squeezed so tightly he’s seeing lights on his eyelids, and this might be heaven, he thinks.

He’s panting as he comes down, clinging to Eddie desperately, tears running into his hair, stomach slick with come. Eddie is still, breathing hard, face buried in Steve’s neck, and then he relaxes, his body falling to Steve’s, heavy and hot.

“You came?” Steve asks breathlessly. Eddie nods.

He pushes himself up after a moment. They’re both shaking. Trembling.

Eddie’s cheeks are vivid red. His hair is a wreck, and his eyelashes are wet, and his lips are shining, and Steve is opening his mouth before he can even think. Eddie smiles tiredly before he closes his mouth, pausing. He lowers his head and spits into Steve’s mouth before he kisses him.

Steve hums, sighing. His hands hold Eddie’s shoulders gently, his eyes closed as his breathing slows. Eddie’s nose nudges his.

“Okay?” Eddie breathes.

Steve nods.

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna pull out.”

Steve whines weakly, and Eddie laughs, kissing his lips briefly before he pulls out carefully. They both hiss.

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, pulling Steve’s hand. Steve sits up weakly, letting him pull him up, and Eddie caresses his face tenderly, kissing his forehead. “Sweet boy.”

Steve smiles at him.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Eddie whispers. “Gonna get us some water.”

Steve nods, closing his eyes when Eddie kisses his forehead again.

Eddie leaves and comes back with a tall glass of water and a washcloth. He’s still naked but the condom is gone.

“Drink,” he says, holding the glass to Steve, and Steve takes it. His hands are shaking as he lifts it to his lips slowly, and Eddie reaches back out to help him, guiding the cup carefully. “There you go.”

Steve takes a few sips and then lowers the glass, and Eddie takes it back. He cleans the come off Steve’s stomach and chest. He’s careful, gentle like Steve’s skin might shatter, and Steve’s eyes burn.

He takes a breath, but it stutters in his chest and catches in his throat, and Eddie looks at him, worry painting his face.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks softly. Steve shakes his head, smiling, touching his face and leaning in to touch their foreheads.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you crying?” Eddie whispers, moving to sit in front of him, setting the glass aside. Steve lets out a wet laugh, shaking his head again, and Eddie wipes his tears, tilting his head curiously.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes. “For being so good to me.”

“Baby.”

Steve lifts his gaze. Eddie caresses his face, his own eyes sparkling with tears again. The sweat on Steve’s skin starts to dry, and he shivers. Eddie reaches over to grab a blanket from where it’s been kicked to the edge of the bed, and he swings it in the air to wrap it around Steve. Steve smiles, pulling the corners of the blanket tighter around himself.

Eddie leans in and presses their foreheads together, running his nose along the bridge of Steve’s.

“I’ll always be good to you,” he whispers. “Want you to kill me if I ever stop.”

Steve lets out a tearful laugh, sniffling, nodding. Eddie runs his hands down and then back up his arms over the blanket, warming him up, holding him close.

“You’re my boy,” he says quietly. “My baby. You only deserve good.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. And he cries.

─────────────────

Eddie had told him to be in the college library today.

Steve had been planning on being in the library anyway, but it was an odd thing to hear from him. So he came, of course. Sat in his usual spot, head down as he twirls his pen in his hand. He’s been rereading the same sentence over and over, trying to decipher it. It’s not a complicated sentence. Every time his eyes run over it, it’s like the words rearrange themselves, shifting into a different language. He doesn’t get it.

He rubs his face harshly, sighing, closing his eyes for a moment before he tries again.

He’s gotten through two more paragraphs when something touches his head, and he looks up to find Eddie smiling down at him, his hand holding the top of Steve’s head, twisting through his hair and tugging casually. Steve’s expression lightens immediately.

“Hi,” he says lightly.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says, tugging again, and he tilts his head. “What’s up?”

Steve pauses, noticing Jeff approaching behind Eddie, smiling almost excitedly.

“Just… Just frustrated. ‘S fine.”

Eddie looks at him like he wants to press farther, like he wants Steve to just tell him, but he nods a little bit, tugging his hair one more time.

“Jefferson,” he says formally, turning to Jeff, who immediately rolls his eyes and smacks the back of Eddie’s head lightly.

“So annoying. Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Jefferson.”

Jeff rolls his eyes again.

“I made the mistake of inviting Eddie to hang out with me while I worked but I forgot what a terrible study partner he is,” he says, resting an arm against Eddie’s shoulder and leaning against him. Eddie’s jaw drops in an offended expression and Steve grins.

“Untrue,” Eddie says. “I’m a fantastic study partner, remember that time I helped you study for biology?”

“You mean when we were seventeen?” Jeff says, looking at him sceptically. “And you kept complaining very loudly that you were bored and biology is a useless subject?”

“Slander. Biology is a very useful subject.”

He sends a faux-subtle wink to Steve, who snorts and shakes his head, looking away, his cheek flushing.

“Alright,” Jeff says dismissively, looking away from Eddie after slapping his head again. “Steve, what are you up to today?”

“Uh,” Steve says, sighing, glancing at his textbook. “Just… Doing my reading. But…” He shrugs.

Jeff seems to see it on him. How tired he is.

“Any chance you’d be willin’ to take this thing off my hands?” Jeff says, nudging Eddie with his elbow. Eddie elbows him back. “So I can actually be productive?”

Steve looks up at Eddie, a smile spreading across his face.

“Sure.”

“Thank God,” Jeff says.

Steve laughs softly as he packs his bag back up, and Eddie tosses an arm around his neck for a moment, knocking their heads together gently in place of a kiss. Jeff watches with a fond smile. He hugs Steve before they leave.

It’s cold outside, but neither of them put their hands in their pockets, because every few steps, their knuckles will brush against each other.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks as they’re passing by an empty bench. Steve glances at him. They’re walking close together in spite of all the space on the sidewalk. He sighs.

“Uhm.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just… every time I open my textbooks or work on my assignments I… I feel like I’m going crazy.” He shrugs again, shaking his head. “I’m just lazy, I just need to actually commit.”

“You’re not lazy, babe,” Eddie says. His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. Steve glances at him. “Steve.”

He reaches out and grabs Steve’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop. Steve looks at him, taking a deep breath. He can see his breath in the air when he exhales. Their eyes meet, and Eddie’s head is tilted forward a little bit, his eyes shining earnestly.

“You’re not lazy,” Eddie says gently. “That’s your parents talking.”

He’s still holding Steve’s sleeve, in lieu of holding his hand. Steve wants to hold his hand.

There aren’t very many people outside because of the cold; a few are around the building smoking or briefly catching up with their friends, but the two of them are far away enough that the others can’t see them clearly.

“Has some truth to it,” Steve mumbles. Eddie tugs on his sleeve.

“No, it doesn't.”

“Well, it’s either that or I’m just stupid, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “Because I can’t fucking read a book for the life of me—”

Eddie tugs his sleeve sharply, and Steve looks at him, gritting his teeth to stop his lip from trembling.

Eddie looks upset. His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips pursed, head tilted. He’s quiet, fist tight on Steve’s sleeve, and then he glances away before he steps a little closer to Steve.

“…Don’t talk about my baby like that,” he says quietly. Steve’s throat tightens.

“Why am I so bad at it?” he asks weakly, his voice breaking. Eddie’s expression softens and he exhales.

“It’s not for everyone,” he says, shrugging. “School’s a system, systems are never all-inclusive.”

Steve huffs, looking away.

“Look,” Eddie says, tugging his sleeve again. “Babe. I took senior year twice. Woulda been three times if Jeff didn’t graduate. ‘Nd I didn’t even bother applying to college, I’m too stupid—”

“You’re not stupid,” Steve interrupts sharply, his voice still shaking.

Eddie tilts his head, a smile teasing his lips, and he raises his eyebrows.

Oh.

Steve rolls his eyes, suppressing a smile, and he looks away. He sees someone’s head over the tall, deal shrubs on the sidewalk, about to round the corner, and he pulls his arm out of Eddie’s grasp, stepping away. The person comes around a moment later.

His eyes linger on Eddie. His expression shifts to something Steve can’t quite read.

He and Eddie are quiet as the guy walks away, his footsteps crunching the thin layer of ice on the sidewalk.

Steve hadn’t noticed himself become used to Eddie. Nothing is weird about him anymore. Nothing is peculiar.

It’s just Eddie.

“That’s different,” Steve says after a few moments.

“It’s only different because my uncle is nothing like your father.”

Steve blinks.

His vision blurs and he looks away, his mouth twisting to stop his lip from quivering.

He’s angry. He hates feeling angry.

Especially when he doesn’t even really know what he’s angry at. It’s ridiculous. He’s not angry at Eddie. Of course he isn’t angry at Eddie. And he’s not even really angry at his father right now.

He’s just angry.

“Stevie,” Eddie says softly after a few moments. Steve looks up at him. The sky is white, cloudy and bright, and Eddie’s hair stands out against it, looks even darker than usual. He’s a little blurry. “You’re not lazy. And you’re not dumb. School just sucks.”

Steve nods, looking away again.

“It sucks.”

“Hey.” Eddie looks around and then takes his sleeve again. “Look at me.”

He does, wiping his cheek quickly. The tear that falls is hot on his skin.

Eddie looks at him for a moment. Gazes at him. Pauses before he speaks.

“You’re not allowed to talk about yourself like that,” he says softly. “Okay?”

Steve is quiet. His eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, and then he nods.

“Okay.”

Eddie smiles softly, tilting his head at him fondly before he gestures with a jerk of his chin.

“‘S go to your place,” he says lightly. “You look like you need a kiss.”

Steve smiles, nodding.

“Okay.”

They’re quiet the rest of the walk to Steve’s. Their hands brush together every few steps. And Steve knows he’s right here, touching him, breathing alongside him, and he knows they’re going to the privacy of his dorm room, knows he’s going to get to kiss him in a just a few minutes, but God, he longs for him.

Eddie holds the door open for Steve when they get to his building. Steve ducks under his arm to pass him, and Eddie ruffles his hair playfully.

The door to Steve’s room is just swinging shut when they turn to each other, crashing together. It’s dimmer in his room than it is outside, the bright light from the sky coming through cracks in the curtain, but it’s still bright enough for Steve to see Eddie’s face. Eddie pushes him against the door gently, his head cushioned by the coat hanging there, his backpack hard against his back.

Eddie kisses him again, slow and lingering. Steve hears the door lock.

“Take this off,” Eddie says, tugging at the strap of his backpack, and Steve nods, eyes still closed. He pulls his backpack off as he kisses Eddie again, and he drops it to the floor. It lands with a heavy thud. “Coat.”

Steve nods again, catching his mouth, catching Eddie’s lower lip with his teeth as he takes it off.

Eddie takes his off at the same time, tossing it aside before his hands slide over Steve’s waist gently.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, letting Eddie lift his leg and slide a hand over his thigh, squeezing.

It all slows down.

Steve’s heart calms down, and his anger fades. He becomes softer with Eddie touching him, sucking on his lip, squeezing his thigh, pressing into the small of his back. He exhales when Eddie pulls away, brushing their noses together.

“You’re smart,” Eddie whispers. Steve half-smiles. “Say it.”

Steve’s eyes squeeze shut. His brows furrow.

Eddie kisses him chastely, teasing.

“Say it. Say ‘I’m smart.’”

Steve takes a shaky breath.

“…I’m smart,” he says quietly, whispering so softly he wonders for a moment if Eddie will make him say it again.

“Say ‘I’m brilliant.’”

Steve suppresses a scoff and a smile, and he nudges their noses together.

“I’m brilliant.”

“Say ‘I’m hard-working.’”

“…I’m hard-working.”

“Say ‘I’m brave,’” Eddie whispers, pulling Steve’s body against his. Steve whines softly.

“I’m brave,” he says breathlessly.

“Say ‘I’m good.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. His throat tightens, and he swallows, exhaling sharply.

“I’m good,” he says, his voice wavering.

“My good boy,” Eddie murmurs. Steve nods.

“‘M Eddie’s good boy.”

“That’s right, baby,” Eddie breathes, kissing him again. “Come here.”

He pulls at Steve’s thigh, lifting him up, and Steve hugs him around the neck, letting out a weak sob. Eddie lets him cry. He lays Steve on his back and pulls out of his arms to carefully remove his shoes, pulling them off Steve’s feet and setting them on the ground before he toes his own shoes off and crawls to hover over Steve’s body.

He kisses Steve gently, holding his face with one of his hands, cold against Steve’s cheek. Steve sniffles, opening his eyes when Eddie pulls away, wiping one of his tears away before it can reach his hair. Eddie kisses his cheek softly, them his jaw, his ear, the underside of his chin, his throat, his collarbone.

Steve exhales shakily.

“Can I blow you?” Eddie asks, whispering. “Do you want me to?”

Steve keens, his breath catching.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Steve nods, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair.

“Yes.”

Eddie kisses him again, slowly, leisurely, and then he sits up, gently pulling Steve to sit on the edge of his bed. He tugs on the end of his sweater, and Steve reaches to the hem of it, catching it with his shirt under it, tugging them both up over his head.

Eddie lowers to kneel on the floor between his legs, and he leans in and kisses his chest, just over his heart. He reaches up with a hand and touches his chest, squeezing his pec gently before he rakes his fingers through his chest hair.

“Say ‘I’m kind.’”

Steve closes his eyes and drops his head forward.

“I’m kind,” he says, choking the words out.

Eddie runs his hands over Steve’s waist, over the soft rolls in his flesh, and he peppers soft kisses across his chest until he reaches his nipple, where he pauses, his lips parting so his tongue can tease it. Steve exhales sharply, his mouth falling open. He can feel Eddie watching him, gazing up at him.

“Say ‘I’m beautiful.’”

Steve’s whole body aches. His stomach twists. He looks down at Eddie, who tilts his head, kissing his chest again, his eyes shining, and he looks sad.

“I’m beautiful,” Steve breathes. Eddie smiles, nodding, holding his gaze as he leans in again, closing his lips around Steve’s nipple and sucking, scraping his teeth over his gently. Steve lets out a soft whine, lifting a hand to hold the back of Eddie’s head, fingers twisting into his curls.

Eddie kisses across his chest again, licks over his other nipple before he kisses between his pecs, down his stomach, and then he gently tugs at the button of Steve’s jeans. He lowers so he’s sitting back on his calves, and he looks up at Steve like he’s praying, eyes shining.

“Eddie, please,” Steve breathes, shaking his head.

“Say ‘I’m proud of myself,’” Eddie whispers, ignoring his pleading.

Steve stifles a sob, squeezing his eyes shut and lifting his head toward the ceiling. His shoulders shake. He looks down after a moment when Eddie rests his cheek on his thigh, looking up at him.

“Come on, baby,” he says softly, rubbing a hand slowly and gently over the tent in his jeans. “Say it for me.”

Steve takes a hiccuping breath.

He could safeword out of this. He knows he could. He knows Eddie would stop, would come and sit on the bed next to him and take him into his arms. That he would kiss his face and wipe his tears and tell him he’s a good boy regardless.

Somehow that makes it easier.

“I’m proud of myself.”

He says it so quietly he barely hears it himself, but Eddie sees his lips move, sees him form the words himself. Eddie smiles proudly, rising up and reaching for his face, touching his chin and kissing his lips softly.

“‘S my boy,” he murmurs.

Steve smiles, blinking tears out of his eyes, and Eddie wipes them away, kissing him again before he lowers again. He undoes the button of Steve’s jeans and tugs, gesturing for Steve to lift his hips so they can pull them off. Eddie casts his jeans and underwear aside.

He kisses his thighs. Wraps his arms around them and holds them, sucking bruises into them and biting them, smiling as Steve’s hand finds the top of his head, holding his hair gently.

“Gotta be quiet for me,” Eddie whispers, looking up at him as he noses as the base of Steve’s dick. “Okay?”

Steve nods.

“Okay.”

“Good boy.”

He brings a hand to his mouth and spits in his palm. Reaches for Steve’s dick, strokes it slowly, watching Steve carefully. Steve closes his eyes, biting his lip to silence the weak sound that escapes him. He forces his eyes open to watch as Eddie leans in and licks him slowly, sucks the tip into his mouth, eyes shining.

The room is quiet, except for the soft sounds of Eddie’s mouth on him, for the weak, stifled moans that escape Steve’s throat. He’s pulling Eddie’s hair with one of his hands, tugging it absently, pulling hums from Eddie’s throat.

Steve falls forward when Eddie lifts a hand and touches his balls, carefully squeezing. A sound escapes him, and he claps a hand over his mouth. Eddie somehow smiles around his dick, and Steve giggles weakly.

Eddie closes his eyes after a moment, relaxing between Steve’s legs, touching him tenderly, reverently, and Steve is breathing hard, the tear tracks on his face drying. He looks up, lightheaded, running a hand through Eddie’s hair carefully.

His vision is blurry, but his eyes catch on the crucifix on the shelf.

It’s up a little higher than it used to be. He moved it a few weeks ago.

His eyes get stuck on it as Eddie’s head bobs up and down, as his hand squeezes Steve’s balls and his thigh, as a filthy sound fills the air. It stares back at him. Challenging him. Taunting him. Waiting.

He closes his eyes.

Whispers Eddie’s name.

And he comes.

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

[squidthusiast]

Sometimes you just need a good hug

[blackpearlblast]

five days until the state of georgia is scheduled to execute willie pye

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[krysmcscience]

It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... 🤔

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4 (soon))

[localapparently]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM DOKJA!!!

[yooboobies]

Does it ever drive you crazy Just how fast the night changes? | for @jung-koook ♡

{cr. 0613data, ouranxingg}

[xulips]

happy (late) trans visibility day!

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 48-52)

FOUND

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[lulu-draws-stuff]

How does that sound?

[okaerin]

damianya week day 5: imperial scholars

2 dorks who just became imperial scholars at the same time

[hansoeii]

I might be currently watching gravity falls and I might have fallen in love

[madootles]

ed + cat pt. 3

[luxaofhesperides]

Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically. 

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries. 

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham. 

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not. 

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native. 

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up. 

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras. 

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them… 

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is. 

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all. 

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything. 

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own. 

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort. 

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking. 

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight. 

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds. 

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight. 

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground. 

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading. 

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes. 

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924. 

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom. 

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds. 

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found. 

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling. 

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything. 

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface. 

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air. 

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes. 

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist. 

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch. 

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure. 

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping. 

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts. 

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow. 

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions. 

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen. 

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!” 

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before. 

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it. 

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER. 

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.