#touch starved gays

[magi--cal]

what if you laid in my lap and i pet your hair and lightly scratched the base of your neck until you fell asleep on my thighs?

[colorsofmax]

[image description: Kim massages Jean's back. There are stripes of soft, warm light on his back]

[alterouslyinlove]

what if we cuddled for so long we were both warm and we smelled like each other. what then.

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[napping-sapphic]

Need the kind of cuddling where we get our hands under each other’s shirts and splay out our fingers just to feel as much of each other as possible and make ourselves as close to each other as possible

[kendallroygf]

no bc all previous intimate kenstewy moments have been stewy being the one to reach out to ken both physically and figuratively (there’s a friend card here if you want to play it etc) but you’re telling me…that kendall roy who generally has an aversion to touch. rests his head on stewy’s shoulder!!! with a smile on his face…so basically you’re telling me he creates further intimacy on his own volition. with stewy. with his best friend called stewy. insane

[iamuncreative]

Not to be gay, but I could really go for kissing a woman rn

[henfox]

nicholas galitzine RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2019)

[jjsshit]

old men being gay

[nikolaisclownsocks]

i need a bf so bad i mean like boys?!?!? hello?!?!? i love boys. i love fat boys, i love skinny boys, i love boys who are not fat nor skinny. i love boys with brown eyes, i love boys with blue eyes, i love boys with grey eyes, i love boys with green eyes. i love boys with dark hair, i love boys with blonde hair, i love boys with dyed hair, and everything in between. i love soft boy tummy. i love boy hands. i love boy shoulders. i love boy thighs. boys >>>>

i fucking love boys and i'm not over it, i need a bf who to cuddle with, and kiss with, and hold hands with, and go on dates with...

also special mention to my fellow trans boys i love y'all sm <3

[inafallsaway]

Touched starved monkies

[sol-insidious]

Got bored and sketched my Funko Pops DinLuke-ing

[enigmasandepiphanies]

Do you ever feel like you need to hug someone for repair and maintenance? No? Just me?

[anouri]

sing into my mouth... love me till my heart stops, love me till i'm dead

henrik uldalen // snail mail // erica jong // @anouri // kim roberti // ross gay // lucille clifton // natalie diaz // edvard munch // talking heads

[stevebabey]

part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!

Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.

He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.

He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.

But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.

Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?

“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.

His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.

“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”

“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.

Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.

Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.

Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.

“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”

Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.

Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“

Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”

Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.

Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.

Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.

“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“

The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.

They were covered by the van but, still.

“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.

The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.

Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”

He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.

Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.

Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.

Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.

He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”

Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.

Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.

-

Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.

Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.

And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.

Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.

That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.

It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.

Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.

He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.

And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.

Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.

“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”

He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.

“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.

“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”

Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”

There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.

He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”

“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.

“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.

“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.

Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.

He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.

Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.

Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.

For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.

Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…

“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.

“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”

Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.

“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”

Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.

“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”

Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.

Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.

Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.

He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.

The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.

“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.

It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.

Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.

For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”

Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.

“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.

“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.

It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.

Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.

He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.

He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.

It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.

“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.

“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”

He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.

Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.

Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.

This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.

“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.

“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”

Steve grins wolfishly.

Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.

“My go.”

This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.

“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.

“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.

“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”

Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.

“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”

Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.

Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”

And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.

-

and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves

tags below:

@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre

[sloth-babied]

Just for a Few Minutes

Shuri x POC reader

Summary: In the midst of a mission, you and Shuri get stranded in space. Months later of failing to get back home, you catch her crying and try to make her feel better.

or

Reader is a touch-starved pathetic loser who Shuri takes an interest in.

Contains: Angst, hurt/comfort, shy reader, smut (18+), and a sprinkle of fluff.

Word count: 2.7k

Shuri’s been stuck at the wheel, stressing on getting back home. She hates this ship, if you can even call it that. It’s old and rusty. You’re surprised the ship hasn’t blown up yet.

You got used to the grumbling and shouting. It’s the same pattern over and over again, and it always ends with a dent in the metal wall or absolute silence: Shuri cheers, believing she’s tracked Earth’s location, then shouts profanities that you don’t understand when the janky ship randomly reroutes the coordinates.

All day Shuri sits in the cockpit, determined she’ll beat the ship at its ridiculous game, and you watch with crossed fingers each time. You often try to lend a hand, although she’s not very fun to work with when she’s angry.

And when she’s not angry, she cries. But only when she thinks you’re asleep. You’ll lay on your bed, back facing the rest of the ship, and glue your eyes on the wall, unable to sleep while she stifles her sobs either in the bathroom or her bed. 

Unlike Shuri, you didn’t have anyone to lose. Your teammates would tease you—call you a lone wolf. Unfortunately, they’re not wrong. 

Today, you hear the same quiet sniffling. 

You lay there, hesitant to move so she doesn’t know you’re listening. Or trying not to listen. But it’s hard not to when you’re a light sleeper. 

The benefit of being a light sleeper? No one can sneak up on you. 

The setback? Waking up to the only person you see every day cry almost every night.

However this night—or day, who knows really—is different. She doesn’t lay in the bed across from yours. Instead she sits in the cockpit, elbows on her lap and face buried in her hands.

Shuri’s body jumps when she hears the soft pads of your feet make their way over to her, but she doesn’t look at you. Maybe that’s for the best considering you have no idea what draws you to take the co-pilot’s seat. 

You’re unsure what to do. You rarely find yourself in a situation where you have to comfort someone, much less yourself. 

Looking straight ahead at the stars and distant galaxies, you speak. 

“I don’t miss anyone.” Wow. You’re already terrible at this.

Nonetheless, Shuri’s faintly head lifts, curious to hear where you’re going next.

You gulp, hoping you only say the right words.

“I mean, like, I don’t have anyone to, like, you know, miss. And there’s no one on Earth who’s, you know, missing me right now. Or looking for me for that matter. But I know that there are people searching for you.”

Shuri also looks ahead. “We’re galaxies away,” she states hopelessly.

“Which is probably why they’re taking so long,” you jokingly reply in an attempt to seem sensible.

You turn to Shuri, and the glint of hope that used to live in her eyes has gone, replaced with exhaustion.

“They’ll travel through those galaxies,” you hope to reassure her. “They will.”

You don’t even know if you believe that, though it doesn’t matter if you do or not as long as she believes it. 

For a minute, no one makes a sound before Shuri starts to whimper again.

An inaudible “woah” comes out of your mouth when you watch her conceal her face back in her hands. Mentally, you’re unsure how to react, which is ironic because your body somehow does: your bottom lifts off the seat and your arms make their way around the princess.

That’s what you do to make people feel better, right?

Her body stiffens and you scold yourself for being so hasty. You attempt to pull away and apologize before she snakes her arms around you, burying her head between your shoulder and neck. You stay there for a while, your knees on the hard floor as she soaks your shirt. 

You don’t say anything and she doesn’t need anything to be said. Silence is just fine.

You’re not used to offering affection, not even a simple hug. Its unfamiliarity makes you a little uncomfortable but you stay. She's the one who pulls away eventually. 

“Tired,” she says plainly.

You get on your feet and back up while she stands. The space between you and Shuri returns, mostly because of you. For you, really.

You attempt to shake off the odd feeling on your skin and in your chest as Shuri sits on her bed. She doesn’t tuck herself in though. She just looks at you.

You hate to say that the face she’s wearing seems familiar. It’s a face you’ve ignored on Earth. A face that wants something from you, but you don’t know what. Or you pretend you don’t know.

This time it’s different. You can sense what she wants, and like all the times before, you choose to ignore it, muttering a “goodnight” as you hurriedly walk to your bed.

“Wait.”

There’s no thought to it when your body halts. However, the anticipation flusters you.

It takes a second after you point your ear to her. You hear a heavy exhale leave her nose. 

“Can you…lie down with me?”

If you heard this on Earth, you’d simply tell her to go to sleep. At the moment you consider not even facing her again, but you regrettably turn your shoulder. And damn. There’s that face again–the inner corners of her eyebrows softly angled upward.

“Just for a few minutes,” she adds. 

Her eyes slowly glide away as she recognizes what she just requested. She wonders why she even asked you such a thing. She starts to shake her head, nearly retracting what she said.

“Sure,” you say. This is probably a mistake.

Your answer obviously surprises her. You don’t have that type of relationship to even lay together, let alone make any physical contact that wasn’t a pat on the shoulder.

You take up the little space left after Shuri scooches. She faces the wall and you lay on your back, unable to move freely. Even your leg hangs off the edge.

But you still can’t seem to shake off that feeling. 

It feels strange. Sort of awkward. But something about it also feels…nice, you think. You’ve never done this with someone. The thought of it was too foreign to even consider.

The version of you before would have cringed at the possibility of this happening. But this version of you–the one who has spent months stranded in space, building whatever connection you have with Shuri–doesn’t mind her back pressed against your arm. This version of you doesn’t mind how warm she feels next to you despite the spacecraft’s low temperatures.

You stare at the back of her head contemplating whether or not you should throw your arm over her waist. To comfort her, of course. 

No, probably not. 

Facing the ceiling again, you wait for Shuri to fall asleep until you hear sniffling again. You can’t solve sorrow with one conversation, can you?

“Shuri?” You whisper. She doesn’t respond. You turn over and place your hand on her bicep. “Shuri,” you try again.

You pull at her with no force and she rolls on her back, wiping her cheek. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs sheepishly.

“No, no,” you reach for her face. “It’s alright.”

She gives you full access, staring at you when you begin rubbing away as many tears as you can. You hit a point where her face is mostly dried up, but you don’t remove your hand. You both lay on your sides and you just keep cleaning.

Shuri reaches for your cheek, dragging the back of her hand up and down, mimicking your touch. Your eyes flutter shut, welcoming the new sensation.

She whispers your name.

You open your eyes. “What?”

God, that face.

“I’m gonna kiss you.”

Your hand pauses on her cheek. “Okay.”

She grabs your neck, pressing her lips to yours. And it feels…really good. Her lips are soft, but dry. She observes the same for your lips, but none of you actually mind.  

Oh man, is this what you’ve deprived yourself of all this time? You can’t get enough of this. You can’t get enough of her, especially when she tilts her head, kissing you deeper. She eagerly pushes you on your back and gets on top of you, hungrily molding herself against you. 

A moan escapes the back of your throat when her lips move to your jaw, trailing down. Her lips tingle down your neck, particularly when she rests there to mark your skin. 

You enjoy this feeling. The overwhelming state you’ve never allowed yourself to enter before.

Shuri lifts the hem of your shirt, snaking her hand under your pants. Your thighs instinctively open as she cups your pussy and your breath hitches when her thumb begins circling your clit.

Jesus, you’re sensitive. You’ve touched yourself here and there, but it never felt like this. 

You choose to look down and your arousal grows just by the disappearance of her hand beneath your clothing. She slides her middle finger between your folds and you dismiss her chuckles when she recognizes how incredibly wet you are. You’re too horny and touch-starved to even worry about it. 

She sits up, one hand at your pussy and the other next to your head. She inserts a finger and drags it out, continuing this motion as her thumb messily rubs your bud.

“You like it when I do this?” Oh, she knows you do.

“Yeah,” you mutter after she inserts her ring finger, staring at you writhe below her.

You turn away, squeezing your eyes shut. Your arm sits on your forehead, covering your eyes, but Shuri pulls the arm away from your face.

“Keep looking at me,” she commands softly.

As piercing as her eyes are, you do as she says and she rewards you by pumping faster. Your mouth opens, your breath quickens, and your hand grips her pillow and the other flies to her bicep, seeking to hold something. 

She hums, responding to your desperate whines; your wetness coating her fingers. She takes advantage of your parted mouth and consumes your lips, slipping in her tongue.

You can’t tell if it’s her fingers or her tongue that make you cum, but holy shit, who fucking cares at this point? Your body shakes and your hips lift involuntarily. And even better, Shuri continues to thrust in and out of you, gradually slowing her pace as your orgasm sends you into a disorientated state of ecstasy.

You pull away from her lips, catching your breath.

Shuri smirks. “You look pretty when you cum.” 

And you’re brought back down to…well, not Earth. With a groan, you cover your face, but only for a second, too keen to see an expression that wasn’t a frown on her face.

“I bet you’d look even better,” you sit up to kiss her. “Can you lay back?” 

She obeys, switching positions with you. You hope to appease her even though you don’t fully know what you’re doing. 

“Tell me what to do,” you rub her knee. “I wanna make you feel good, but I don’t know where to start.”

An inquisitive look appears on her face, processing what you’ve just told her. She leans up using her elbows to support her.

“Was that your first time?” 

You tilt your head side to side. “Sorta, yeah. I mean, there was this one girl a while ago, but she didn’t get…as far as you did.” 

You didn’t let her get as far as Shuri did, to be specific.

“Bast,” she gapes at you. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Please don’t make it awkward.”

She shakes her head. “I…Okay, yeah–no. I won’t.” The gears keep turning in her head to the point where she smiles to herself. “I’m your first?”

“Okay,” you murmur, shifting away from her before Shuri draws you back with your wrist.

“Don’t go,” she giggles. “That’s okay. I’ll guide you.” She pecks your lips. “I’m sorry.” She pecks your lips again. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod nervously.

“What do you wanna do, hm?” She caresses your cheek, seeing how tense you’ve become. 

You peer down at her pants, shrugging. “Wanna touch you…however you want me to.”

“However?” She gives you one last kiss below your jaw before laying on her back. “Okay. Help me take this off.”

The heat kicks back in. You start removing her pants until she impatiently kicks the rest off the bed, leading you both to laugh. 

“Just start by kissing me first,” Shuri reaches for your arm.

You happily oblige, enveloping her lips with yours, your body between her legs. You breathe her in—promptly addicted, that’s for sure. Your chests press together and you can feel her breasts beneath you, nipples as firm as yours. 

Your hand hesitantly slides under her shirt. You stop before you reach her breast. “Is it okay if-”

“It’s okay,” she drags your hand to her breast and you gently squeeze before flicking her nipple. You successfully earn a moan from her. Fuck, you only wanna do things that’ll get a noise out of her. 

You kiss her chin, her jaw, dip to her neck, then down to her clavicle, hoping to descend further. Shuri reads your mind, removing her shirt and throwing it aside. You fervently reconnect your mouth to her skin, stopping at her sternum. Her hand shoots to the back of your head when your lips slide to her breast and your tongue circles around her areola, flicking on her nipple before engulfing it. Another moan leaves her, encouraging you to suck. Your free hand plays with her other breast, flicking and tugging before gliding down to her pussy. You find her clitoris beneath her underwear, circling it between your index and middle finger.

Shuri mumbles in Xhosa as you slip off her underwear.

Your mouth releases her breast and you get up. You gaze at her body, licking your lips. You stay there, naively contemplating what you hope to do to her. She notices. 

Her half-lidded eyes inspect your expression. “What do you wanna do?” 

Your fingers keep playing with her as you think. You look down at them, enthralled by her body’s response to your touch. You land on something. “Wanna eat you out.”

Shuri lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m surprised you know what cunnilingus is,” she jokes.

You chuckle. “Shut up.”

You aim for her stomach, kissing your way down to her pussy. You remove your fingers from her clit, pausing once you’ve positioned your head between her legs. Your eyes lock on hers when you flatten your tongue and lick.

“Yeah,” her hand lands on the side of head, watching you intently. “Just keep doing that.”

And you do. You lick and suck her, allowing the volume of her voice to guide you. You wrap your arms around each of her thighs, getting comfortable the more she coats your mouth and chin.

“Does that feel good?” You muffle against her pussy.

“Yeah,” she grinds on your face. “Feels…feels really good.”

Shuri gasps your name and throws her head back when you sneak a finger inside her cunt, thrusting in and out. She whimpers when you add another digit, curling the pads of your fingers. She curses in her native language, sighing, “right there,” when you hit her spot and you stare, admiring her whine and whimper because of you.

You continue to suck her clit until her body shudders intensely as she approaches her climax. She wonders if you’ve switched off the ship’s gravity because her mind spaces off blissfully.

You want to see that again.

She releases a heavy sigh and lifts herself to look at you while you sit up.

“Did I do okay?” You ask.

She yanks you by your shirt and smashes her lips on yours, tasting herself. 

You laugh against her mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She pulls away, but lingers with her forehead against yours. She drags her fingernails up and down your neck. “Thank you.”

And she means it. You’re both lonely already. She needed the distraction and you’re apparently much more desperate for affection than you thought you were.

Jokingly you furrow your brows anyway. 

“Do people normally thank each other after sex?”

She clicks her tongue and flicks your forehead, saying your name in a scolding manner.

“Ow!” You yelp, laughing as you palm the spot she flicked. 

Shuri smiles humorously, rubbing your forehead despite the lack of pain.