Title: You Make Me Wanna (Scream)
Author: an-alternate-world
Rating: M+
Characters/Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Word Count: 14,531
Summary: Buddie Discord Secret Elf 2020. After Buck admits that that he doesn't lose control and scream often, it seems as though there are a series of incidences where he could - but doesn't. And so Eddie makes it his personal mission to find out how to make that happen... (Or 5 times Buck wanted to scream + the 1 time he finally did)
Warnings/Spoilers: Explicit sexual content. Includes instances of some Dom!Eddie/sub!Buck with safe words, colours, and a variety of kinkplay.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with 911, Fox, or anything else related to that particular universe.
5
Buck has serious regrets that he ever said anything to Eddie about how rarely he really loses control because now it seems to be Eddie's personal mission to try to get him to scream. Sure, there had been that time when mud had covered the only entrance to the well and Buck thought he'd lost Eddie down it, and there'd been that time that Chris had slipped off the edge of the fire truck and into another surge of water but…generally speaking, he doesn't think anything could ever compare to that terror, so he doesn't think he's likely to scream himself so hoarse again.
Eddie, on the other hand, seems to take that as a challenge.
"What about in bed?"
Buck chokes on his mouthful of coffee as they sit on the couch at the 118, eyes darting over the back of it to find Bobby making lunch while Hen and Chim are nowhere in sight. Maybe they're downstairs. He hopes they're downstairs. He doesn't want any part of this conversation being overheard.
"What about in bed?" he echoes once the scalding liquid has been swallowed, his voice raspy and wondering if he needs Hen to check he didn't do some sort of damage because Eddie has no concept of timing. Or maybe his asshole of a boyfriend did it deliberately.
"Screaming," Eddie says thoughtfully, his eyes dropping over Buck's body and Buck's fairly sure his face flames with a heat that isn't just because of the coffee, or his near-death experience of inhaling it. "You say you don't scream, does that mean no one has ever-"
"Eddie," he hisses, sliding forward to clamp a hand over Eddie's lips because he's not a prude but he also knows Bobby's inevitable reaction if he overheard this particular conversation. "Not now."
In typical Eddie fashion though, he doesn't drop it. Sure, he stops talking about it at the station but ultimately he's like a dog with a bone, gnawing away at an idea that is sure to drive Buck absolutely nuts and bringing it up at any available opportunity when they're not surrounded by other people Which includes when they're a pile of tangled limbs amid a muss of sheets, because the way Eddie so casually brings it up proves he's still thinking about it.
"Think I can make you scream?" Eddie practically coos and Buck just about decides to sit on his boyfriend's cock to shut him up.
"Not now," Buck says, inadvertently repeating his words from the shift as he scoots down Eddie's body and wraps his lips around the thick length of his cock. Eddie's hips twist up and off the sheets and Buck pins them back down with a firm arm across his waist, much to Eddie's moaned chagrin.
Eddie's fingers wind into his hair and curl around his ear as Buck swallows him down, tracking each gasp and groan, each tug and pull, to determine how close his boyfriend gets. He can feel the salt of precum spilling across his tongue and he reaches between Eddie's legs to palm and squeeze his balls, fingertips grazing at his hole to urge him closer.
There's a stifled shout as Eddie finally unravels, coating across his tongue and down his throat, and he hums in satisfaction as he licks and swallows, licks and swallows, until the heated spurt of liquid slows. He's in the midst of slithering back up Eddie's body to kiss him slow and deep, to rock his own erection into Eddie's hip in a tease of where he'd rather be, when there's a timid knock at the bedroom door.
"Daddy?"
He freezes, they both do, and Buck tries to remember if Eddie locked the door before they stumbled their way into the room.
"Y-Yeah, bud?" Eddie replies, his voice shaking and pitched higher than usual.
"I heard you shout. Are you okay?"
In the limited light spilling through the window, Buck can see Eddie's accusatory glare glittering in the darkness. He bites his bottom lip to hold back the laughter that threatens to break free, even as his cheeks flame in mortification, and Eddie can probably feel the way he shakes with the silent laughter.
"I'm alright, kiddo. Just a- a bad dream. You think you can go back to bed?"
Buck's honestly impressed at how even Eddie keeps his voice.
"Yeah. Is Buck gonna keep the bad dreams away?"
Fingers in the darkness curl around at his hip, a tease of more, and it takes every bit of willpower and strength that Buck has to not whine into the darkness and scare the shit out of his favourite kid in the world. It's already difficult enough not to swat at Eddie's hand, or his shoulder, or his face. Anything to try and resist the power of Eddie touching him without an apparent care in the world, despite his son being just outside the door.
"Buck's gonna take real good care of me, Chris," Eddie says, his tone filled with a heated promise that Buck catches and he prays to God that Chris doesn't until he's a whole lot older. "Go back to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay. G'night, Daddy and Buck. Love you!"
"Love you too, bud," Eddie calls and Buck makes some sort of gurgled attempt at admitting his love for Chris but mostly he's caught between making sure his shuffling footsteps actually retreat and not making a noise loud enough that Chris returns with a fresh wave of anxiety that Buck might not be okay. Because they'd never get rid of him if that happened.
"Guess we'll have to postpone the possible screaming to another time," Eddie says, his voice low as his grip shifts to Buck's cock, his wrist twisting at the head on the downstroke in the way he knows drives Buck wild. "Maybe at your place?"
Buck grunts, hips rocking into that slow rhythm against his soft, smooth skin. "Just us?" he mumbles, breath hitching when Eddie's thumb drags through the leaking slit in a filthy version of lube to make the slide of his palm easier.
"Just us," Eddie confirms, and Buck lets his imagination fill in the rest when Eddie kisses him to steal every gasp and groan so that they don't disturb Chris again.
4
"Some of the planks on the porch stairs are loose," Eddie says absently when they're switching from uniforms to civilian clothes after a long shift where Buck's been dreaming of going back to his apartment and crawling under the blankets of his bed for most of the last four hours.
Buck tugs his head through his shirt, ruffling his hair in the process as he lifts his eyes towards his boyfriend. "They are?"
Eddie reaches over to pat the wild mass of his hair back into place and if Buck catches Chim staring at them, and sticks his tongue out at his sister's boyfriend, then no one's the wiser except Chim. And maybe Eddie. Chim, in response, merely rolls his eyes and returns to tying his shoelace because it's not like him and Eddie is something new anymore.
"Yeah. I've been worried about Chris tripping on them going up and down but with all the shifts lately, and some of his appointments, I haven't had a chance to-"
"I can come over and fix them for you."
Buck doesn't even need to pause and think about it. He's not sure where the offer comes from but he recognises a potential danger to Chris and after the tsunami, he'll do anything to protect the kid from harm.
At least, that's what he'll go with if anyone ever asks why he offered so readily.
Which is how he ends up at the hardware store obtaining timber in the required size, and borrowing a hammer and nails from Michael, and pulling up the old timbers which look to be rotting on the underside when he yanks them free. Eddie hovers behind him, watching from ground-level. Chris hovers, watching from the porch.
"Gross," Chris says, his little nose adorably scrunched, when Buck shows off the mouldy timber to each of them. It clearly hadn't been sealed properly to end up with this degree of wood rot and it was only a matter of time before someone far heavier than Chris would end up with a foot straight through the timber, and breaking a leg or an ankle. Buck can't help the shudder that travels down his spine at the thought of another broken leg.
"Very gross," Buck agrees while Eddie collects the old pieces in a pile to throw out later. He fits the fresh pieces in place, adjusting slightly one way or the other to ensure they're even and in line with the steps that still look okay – although Buck's starting to wonder if he shouldn't just call Michael to get the whole thing replaced. Three bad steps probably means they're all on the turn.
"How do you know so much about stairs?"
Buck shrugs, glancing up at Chris as he picks up the packet of nails to press one between each plank to space them correctly. The wild swings of LA temperatures means there has to be a gap to allow for expansions and contractions. "I spent a summer working odd jobs for a family friend that was kind of a handyman."
"You did? What's the grossest thing you ever fixed?"
Buck can feel Eddie's eyes on him because the number of times he or Maddie have talked about Pennsylvania over the years can probably be counted on two hands. He picks up the hammer, sets a nail in place and taps lightly to pierce the wood, and then harder to lodge it in place.
"We had an overflowing toilet once," Buck says as he picks up the next nail. "It was on the second floor and the bathroom tiles hadn't been waterproofed properly, so it had seeped past the grouting and into some of the floor cavity."
There's a high pitched "Ewwwwww" that makes Buck grin as he starts to hammer in the second nail.
"That was a visual I don't think our son required," Eddie teases and Buck's eyes flash up to look at him in surprise, at the slip that maybe wasn't a slip but that absolutely sends his heart racing.
Problem is, he'd also been lowering the hammer to hit the nail.
And, of course, he misses.
The hammer clatters to the timber as he folds his hand into his chest, tears prickling his eyes and biting his lip hard enough to pierce it if his incisors had been sharper. He wants to screech a curse at Eddie for distracting him, or a curse at how much his thumb hurts, but Chris is standing right there and gazing at him with wide eyes while he hops around from foot to foot.
Eddie slips into first responder mode faster, probably because Buck's seeing red spots of pain flashing behind his eyes. "Chris, can you go inside and get us one of the ice packs from the freezer, please?"
Buck hears the shuffling footsteps through the haze of hurt and Eddie touches a hand to his shoulder, drawing his attention.
"C'mon. Let me look at it," Eddie encourages, his words from before Buck had smashed his finger perhaps completely forgotten and yet pulsing just as blindingly in Buck's mind. His hand shakes as he extends it, as Eddie's fingertips flit over the injury with all the lightness of a butterfly's wings. "Bend."
Buck almost sobs as he does what his boyfriend requests and Eddie nods with approval. "I c-could've told you it w-wasn't broken," he hiccups, sucking at his bottom lip as he struggles to straighten it again because it hurts so badly.
"With your luck, you'd hit your thumb and shatter your whole hand."
Buck narrows his eyes, prepared to poke him or shove him but mostly he just wants to return to cradling his finger to his chest with the icepack that Chris had gone to obtain.
"Could you say I'm better at nailing than you?" Eddie jokes and it temporarily derails Buck's thoughts from the pain as his cheeks flame with heat.
"Fuck off," he mutters, aware that little ears could hear so much when they wanted to.
"I could give you a good hammering," Eddie adds, and Buck starts wondering about what his boyfriend's skull would look like with a hammer sticking out of it.
"I'll hammer you straight through your head," he taunts.
Eddie, though, is far from dissuaded. His lips spread in a grin that exposes far too many of his teeth. "Well in that case, I'm also better at screwing."
"I swear to God, I will end you," Buck threatens, but Eddie doesn't get a chance to add to the innuendos because they both hear the shuffling return of footsteps.
"I found it!" Chris announces and Buck says a polite thank you even as he glowers at his boyfriend and vows payback.
3
There's a strange crowd outside the 118 that Bobby eyes suspiciously every time the sirens go off for a call. Buck had glimpsed several young women smile and wave at them on one of the occasions that they'd returned to the station. He'd awkwardly smiled and waved back, until he'd caught Eddie's hostile glare across the cab and dropped both immediately and pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriend's cheek when no one else was looking.
Bobby is muttering something under his breath as they all unclip and depart the truck, preparing for showers and a change of clothes after a messy car-meets-truck-meets-car-meets-ruptured-sewerage-line rescue that had involved enough smoke and blood and literal shit that Buck wasn't sure he'd ever get all the smells off. He scrubs at his skin to work the soap into a lather until his body is flushed pink when he eventually rinses it all off, trying not to think too much about Eddie probably doing the same in the next stall because Chim is probably on the other side of Eddie's stall, and the proximity of his sister's boyfriend is enough to keep his dick soft.
By the time he finally exits the shower, the usually gentle fabric of his clothes actually hurts and he thinks he might've scrubbed a little too hard. Still, when he lifts his fingers to his nose, he could swear he can still smell the reek of the call all over him.
"Buck? A word, please?"
He spins on his heel to enter Bobby's office, eyebrows rising when his gaze snaps towards Athena. It's not unusual for Athena to show up on a shift to visit Bobby, but there's a wrinkle of her nose and a downturn of her lips that Buck thinks isn't just the smell that probably also lingers on the truck, and her husband, and might just pervade the whole damn station.
"Cap?"
"Take a seat, Buck," Bobby says and his face, in typical Work Mode, is expressionless. Buck swallows, mentally going over the call as he tries to determine if he did something wrong. Maybe he could've been faster freeing the man from the passenger seat of one of the cars but Chim had had the jaws to prise open the door of the truck which was sparking so the vic didn't get caught in an eruption of flames and- "We need to have a chat."
Buck's eyes swing from Bobby's to Athena's and back to Bobby's again. "…we do?"
Some of the stern expression falters as Bobby sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Buck, look. I accept that you and Eddie have been together a while now but this is… I can't abide this."
Buck frowns, completely lost as to what Bobby's referring to. "What?"
"Those people outside? They're your fans," Athena says, her tone managing to remain more even than Bobby's and clearly disappointed.
"Fans? I haven't done anything that's been newsworthy for months!" Buck protests but both she and Bobby shake their heads.
"We're talking about the stories, Buck."
Buck's frown only deepens as he stares at his Captain, bewildered. "Stories? What stories?"
Bobby gestures at his computer screen. "This isn't appropriate for work, Buck. Please just- just keep your personal lives to yourselves and in your respective homes."
Buck feels like screaming because nothing his boss, his surrogate father, says is making any sense. "What are you talking about?"
Athena sighs and Bobby turns the screen enough that Buck can see a completely unfamiliar webpage. He manages to ascertain that it's a list of stories about a pair of firefighters, Andrew and Alexander, who work out of station 181 in Los Angeles. His eyes narrow at the screen, skimming through some of the summaries and feeling the flush travel down his neck at the more…explicit suggestions within some of them.
"That… That's not…me," he says, his voice squeaky as he decides he'd very much like to melt into the floor now and never look at Bobby or Athena again.
"Buck-"
"It's not," he insists, shaking his head, rubbing at his face like he can put the flames out. "I swear to you, both of you, I would never-"
"Then someone is violating your privacy," Athena says, touching a hand to his shoulder as Bobby spins the screen back into place. "And we'll get to the bottom of this."
Buck's not even sure she knows what she said when she talks about bottom considering what is…apparently being written about him, about him and Eddie, and he seriously just wants to erupt into flames on the spot and disappear. Maybe he can melt into a pile of ashes and be reborn as a new phoenix and everyone can forget any of this ever happened.
Bobby leads him out of the office and they ascend the stairs to where Eddie and Hen are playing cards and sipping tea, and Chim's fiddling on his phone. All their eyes lift at the sight of Athena with them and though Buck's not sure what her face looks like, he can guess her expression is severe.
"I have moved on the cluster of people outside who had hoped to…gain autographs or take photos, I suppose," Athena says with a wave of her hand as Buck moves towards the fridge to obtain something to drink. Juice, maybe. Spiked with a lot of vodka.
"We have groupies?" Hen says and Buck almost snorts.
"Those two have groupies," Bobby says and Buck doesn't need to look at his Captain to know who he's pointing at.
"Us?"
"I'm concerned you might be being stalked," Athena says, a chair scraping as she sits beside Hen. Buck's hands tremble because she hadn't mentioned that in Bobby's office and the last thing he wants is to feel tracked and followed like Doug had done to Maddie. God, Maddie was going to freak out when she heard about this. There was no way she wouldn't. Chim would be texting her as soon as Athena left, having a laugh at his expense, and knowing Maddie she'd download some of the stories and regale him with them over a bottle of wine.
"Stalked?"
"There are some…explicit stories that appear to concern the pair of you," Bobby explains delicately and Eddie makes a disbelieving noise and Hen covers her mouth in surprise and Chim…
Well, Chim drops his phone.
Buck's eyes snap to his sister's boyfriend and he can tell from the way Chim avoids looking at him that there's something else going on and-
"It's you," he says, interrupting Athena's explanation of the situation to Hen and Eddie, drawing everyone's attention towards him and then Chim, who is looking at him with wide eyes and pale cheeks. "It's you."
"Listen, I-"
"Oh my God, Chim! You weren't meant to publish them!" Hen shrieks and Buck's eyes snap towards her. Bobby throws his hands in the air and shoves himself away from the dining table, retreating downstairs while Buck gapes at his two best friends as they awkwardly explain their stupid shenanigans the past few months.
"It's only murder if they never find the bodies, right?" he mutters, loud enough that Athena hears him, and the look on her face suggests she might just help him dig the holes.
2
Buck adores Chris but he hates the nights he gets stuck on babysitting duty because Eddie needs to pull a double. Despite the offers to help pay for an appointment, or a new pair of shoes, Eddie always insists that there are certain responsibilities he has to pay for because he is Chris' father.
Buck tries to pretend like his thumb doesn't throb at the words because he hasn't forgotten how Eddie had so casually said our son and he still doesn't know what to make of it. He hasn't wanted to ask and be disappointed, and then they've both been kind of weird and distant lately after all Chim and Hen's story-writing nonsense. Buck hadn't had to worry about his sister reading aloud one of the stories to mock him – she'd instead come to his defence and kicked Chim's butt.
He settles among Eddie's blankets, tugging a pillow to his chest and inhaling the lingering scent of his boyfriend's cologne. It's nowhere near as good as actually pressing against Eddie's chest, of listening to the staccato of his heartbeat and the whoosh of air in and out of his lungs, but it's better than nothing. It makes being without him in the house somewhat acceptable, even as he listens for any disturbance from Chris down the hall.
He's been lying there for almost ten minutes when his phone buzzes on the bedside table and when he glances at the screen and sees EDDIE across it, he swipes at the glass without thinking.
"You okay?" he says, sitting up with the pillow to his chest.
Eddie's laugh is a quiet, calm rumble that deflates Buck's anxiety before it can even take root. "I'm fine, Buck. I just thought I'd call to check my boys were okay and wish you a good night's sleep."
Buck blushes and returns to the cluster of blankets he'd surrounded himself with to pretend that the fabric was his boyfriend's arms, holding him tight. My boys. Our son. It's those little possessive pronouns that catch Buck short every time, that leave him reeling with the implications and his cheeks stained with warmth.
"Chris is okay. He fell asleep watching a movie an hour ago," Buck reports, even if he'd spent a little longer stroking through his soft curls because he knew Chris found it soothing.
"And you?"
Buck shrugs even though Eddie can't see it. "I miss you."
"I know." Eddie's sigh crackles over the line and Buck can hear footsteps. He wonders where Eddie is in the station. It's so quiet and sometimes it's why Buck had liked the night shifts, because there weren't as many crazy disasters after the sun went down and because there were some nights that were just so impossible to find any rest. "I wish I was there too."
Buck hums, his eyes sliding closed so he can try to imagine he's listening to Eddie talk to him before he dozes off. He's not sure when Eddie had realised he hates lying in silence trying to sleep, nor is he sure Eddie realises how comforting Buck finds his voice to listen to when he closes his eyes. He hasn't been able to bring himself to admit that either.
"You think you could be quiet enough if I jerked you off?"
Buck's eyes flash back open in the darkness of the room, the catch in his breathing almost certainly audible over the line. "Eddie-"
"Shh, we can't wake Chris," Eddie murmurs and it sends a heated shiver down Buck's spine. "How about you let me do all the talking, yeah? Just don't wake him."
Buck whimpers his assent even though he's certain that if Chim got wind of this phone call, there'd be a new account spring up and new stories posted. Buck can only assume Eddie's found his way outside somewhere, away from anyone else sharing the shift with him so that he isn't overheard.
"Tell me what you're wearing," Eddie says and Buck swallows the flutter of nerves because this is…this is new. They haven't done anything like this since they got together, usually because they're either together or they're not, but they carve out time to be together considering Buck still has his apartment and Chris has school or Eddie can ask his grandmother very nicely for a favour.
"J-Just boxers," he says, palming a hand across the silken fabric where his dick is certainly twitching with interest.
"So much skin to touch," Eddie breathes and Buck feels his blood heat as Eddie talks about how he'd touch his neck to tilt his head and kiss him, how he'd trail fingertips around each nipple, across some of the shapes of tattoos on his chest, down towards his belly. Everywhere that Eddie mentions touching, Buck mimics, eyes closing to sink into the layers of his boyfriend's monologue. "I'd want to sit up, peel that elastic off your waist so slow to reveal every inch. You'd be a mess already, wouldn't you?"
Buck moans softly, conscious of Chris asleep down the hall but also well-aware that Eddie knows him so well. The front of his boxers is damp, his cock straining against the elastic when he inches his fingertips past it to touch.
"You going to touch yourself for me? Going to let me hear you?"
Buck nods despite Eddie not being able to see him, a quiet groan echoing through his chest as he wraps a hand around the base. It's something, not enough, and it's hard to pretend it's Eddie when their hands have different callouses, but Eddie tells him what to do, a low but steady murmur in his ear and he follows the commands without thinking about it. His pace is slow at first, using the precum to smear down his length when Eddie talks about wanting to lick him clean after, and it's so slow Buck feels like he's going to disintegrate into pieces just because he's trembling so much.
"You need it faster? You going to get yourself off for me?"
"Y-Yeah," he gasps, and Eddie starts coaching him through how and when to twist his wrist, when to press his thumb to the slit, when to pinch at a nipple or his balls. He almost loses the grasp of his phone between his ear and shoulder at one point, fingers fumbling to correct it as Eddie speaks his approval over the crackle of the line.
He can feel the heat coiling in his belly and Eddie urging him on and it's easy to think of Eddie sitting at the end of the bed, telling him what to do. He's surrounded by Eddie's sheets and pillows, enveloped in his scent, and all he can do is work his hand more and more, closer and closer, when a shrill alarm bellows in his ear that makes him yelp and lose the grip on his phone.
"Shit, gotta go. Sorry."
The line is dead a split second later and Buck's caught with his hand on his cock, a desperate ache for release mingled with the uncertainty of whether he's allowed to let go. He presses his face into a pillow, whining into the darkness because he can't scream. He's so hard and so close but the illusion of Eddie being nearby is completely shattered and he is suffering for it.
1
The sun is scorching and the air so dry that it feels like he's inhaling fire. Buck waves a magazine in front of his face in search of some sort of relief, but he's fairly certain his ass is stuck to the couch and the metal of the truck downstairs will be hot to the touch despite being parked in the garage. It's Chim and Hen who have had the rougher shift, so many ambo calls for heat exhaustion that they've collectively stopped counting.
When the alarm finally screeches for the truck, Buck peels himself up with a groan and moves through the molasses of the air to descend the stairs and clamber into the truck. Eddie looks as overheated as him, as do Chim and Hen when they get in the ambulance, as does Bobby when he guides the truck through streets. It's one of those days where there's no relief in sight – one of those rare weeks that Buck misses the Pennsylvania winters – and even cranking the window for some of the passing air doesn't erase any of the stifling heat or bring any real relief.
They roll up to the side of a cliff and a woman runs at them, gabbling something about her boyfriend going over the edge and falling into the sea. When Buck cautiously peers over the edge, the man is clinging to a rock while water swirls around him far below. Buck's almost jealous of the man for finding somewhere to escape the grotesque heat, even though he hates the thought of treading water again.
"Help," the man, Kyle (his girlfriend helpfully identifies), calls feebly and Buck meets Eddie's eyes with a nod.
"We'll go over, harness him up and get him back to you in no time, ma'am," Eddie explains to the woman, as well as to Bobby. Their Captain nods at Eddie's decisive determination of action and lets them gear up.
Chim and Bobby set up the cranks and Hen rigs up the basket for the vic. Despite the heat and the sun beating down on his shoulders, fresh trails of sweat falling into his eyes and sliding down his back, Buck maintains his composure as best as he can when he and Eddie abseil down the cliff to their victim.
"Hey. I'm Buck with LAFD. How are you doing, Kyle?" Buck says, assessing the gap between the rocks as to how best they can secure Kyle and get him to safety.
Exhausted hazel eyes in a pale face meet his. "Tired…"
"That makes perfect sense." Buck flashes him a smile and crouches close to the man. "My partner, Eddie, and I are here to get you out of here. Sound good?"
"Y-Yeah…"
Buck stands again, looking towards Eddie. His partner makes some gestures about how to use their ropes to loop around Kyle's wrists to secure him in case he lets go of the rock because of the fatigue. Buck nods and they work in tandem, talking Kyle through the actions, setting up the pulleys, and then manoeuvring him off the rock. Kyle visibly sags but Buck and Eddie use their collective strength to heave him up and out of the ocean. They're all trembling by the time they've pulled Kyle onto the rock plateau, resting on his side while Eddie checks his airways and any other signs of injury while Buck takes the man's vitals and pretends the heat isn't taking its toll on his thought processes.
"Thank...you…" Kyle gasps, squeezing at his hand. Eddie straps Kyle's feet into the basket and Buck tightens the straps over his chest with his spare hand.
"Just doing our job," Eddie reassures and Buck grins at his boyfriend, because it's not such a bad job to get to work side by side like this, in sync without even really talking. Eddie radios up to Bobby and they give Kyle a thumbs up when the basket starts to raise.
"The water looks so inviting on a day like this," Buck says once Kyle's been winched above them. He longs to just crouch and splash something cool on his face to get rid of the smears of sweat, but there are more than enough flickers of memories to keep his distance from the churning water.
"We'll find some ice back at the station." Eddie peels off his helmet to swipe some of the sweat off his forehead and Buck almost reconsiders the appeal of something cold on his face if he could steal a quick kiss.
A pebble cracks against the plateau, distracting Buck from his thoughts as he glances up to check on Kyle's progress. He freezes, seeing it happen as if in slow motion. Part of the cliff face is shifting, sliding away, sliding down. He opens his mouth to yell a warning to Eddie, to Kyle, to Bobby, but nothing comes out because he's stunned by the descending chunk of rock aimed at his head. He manages to dive out of the way before he's even really thought through the action, shocked by the water which erases some of the overwhelmed feeling from all the heat.
But there's a danger in the water too, a swirl of the currents that pull at his ankles and yank him in opposing directions and slam him against the edge of the rocks he'd just been standing on. His breath bubbles out of him with a gasp and he can feel the threat of the water at his lips and in his mouth, the salty tang familiar for the worst of reasons and leaving him dizzy with the swirl of memories that threaten to drag him under.
His fingers scrabble for purchase on the same rock they'd just hauled Kyle off and he tries to pull himself up, tries to call out to Eddie that he's okay, but when he manages to blink the burning salt water from his eyes, he can see Eddie's prone form beside the pile of rock that had sheared off the cliff face.
"Eddie?" he yells, his lungs aching from being smashed into the rocks but mustering a strength that has seen him survive crazy situations for years. "Eddie?"
There's a mumbled sort of groan, or at least he thinks there is. Perhaps he hopes there is. It's hard to hear over the crash of the water surrounding him and his own frantic heartbeat that echoes in his ears. His eyes dart around the plateau, gauging how there's a chunk of rock that looks to be covering Eddie's leg, invariably pinning him in place. Worse than that, though, is that it doesn't look like Eddie's made any sort of attempt to move himself to safety or dislodge the rubble from his leg. And that never bodes well.
Buck fumbles for a better grip on the rock, trying to kick his legs to propel himself up and out of the water, but the rock is slippery and there's nothing to grasp onto to help haul him out when he gets a bit of leverage. Now he understands how Kyle had gotten stuck there, and why he'd been so exhausted when they'd descended to rescue him. If Buck doesn't keep trying to kick his legs, there's little to stop him from getting swept away or shoved repeatedly into rocks until he's knocked out.
He tries calling out to Eddie again, knows the rest of the team at the top of the cliff will have seen what's happened and would already be developing a plan to get them to safety. He just has to keep kicking, just has to keep his head above the water, just has to keep trying to get Eddie's attention to see if his boyfriend has any signs of alertness…
The world spins with his disorientation at being moved, his lazy and lapsing eyes trying to blink against the glare of the sun shining down on him and the harsh surface of rocks that almost certainly sway beneath him.
"Buck? Can you hear me?"
His vision swims over Bobby's face and he manages a weak nod. His Captain's hands poke and prod him randomly and he's too tired to bat the hands away but there's only a dull ache in his ribs from when he'd been winded by the ocean swell slamming him into the rock. He hadn't been hit by any of the falling debris. He'd gotten out of the way of that before-
"Eddie," he gasps, peeling himself away from Bobby to crawl across the plateau to where Chim is examining him. There's a trail of blood down his temple and his eyes are closed, but he's breathing. He's breathing and it might be shallow but he's breathing. "Eddie," he damn near sobs, his fingers curling into his boyfriend's and squeezing tight for some sort of sign that he's alive in there.
"Obvious signs of a head wound. He's been in the sun a long time and is burning up," Chim explains and Buck realises just how red Eddie's face really is. Red with heat stress, red with being burned, red with blood, red with the extent of his injuries.
With Buck pulled from the water, sore but otherwise okay, and Eddie unconscious, it doesn't take a genius to work out who gets hauled up the cliff first. Buck watches the cliff face warily, afraid of more crumbling chunks of stone that might wipe them all out. Once Eddie's disappeared over the edge and Hen radios the success, Chim and Bobby ensure the ropes are correctly harnessed through all his carabiners and he goes next.
Kyle's girlfriend, Samantha, sweeps towards him with a shock blanket. He wants to protest, the syrupy heat of the day already unbearable in his saturated clothes, but Hen orders him to sit down and shut up with the blanket over his shoulders, and he relents by sinking to his knees, a hand clutching at the comfort of dirt instead of damp rock. The foil crinkles in the wind and with his shaking as he watches Hen fuss over Eddie: splinting his leg, setting up a saline IV, bandaging his head. By the time Chim appears over the corner of the cliff, Eddie's prepped for transport and a second ambulance has arrived.
And Buck wants to scream that they take him with Eddie because he can't let his boyfriend leave like this, can't let some other crew take Eddie out of his sight because he doesn't trust them as much as he trusts Chim and Hen. He knows Eddie's more severely injured compared to Kyle, and he knows Bobby still hasn't crested the cliff yet, and he knows that protocol dictates waiting for his Captain and triage says Eddie has to go first but… It's one of the hardest things Buck thinks he's ever done, watching another team bundle Eddie into their rig and race off while he waits for the cranks to haul Bobby up.
He barely even got a chance to squeeze his boyfriend's hand in the whirl of movement, and he sinks into Hen's embrace with an exhausted, scared sob.
+1
Eddie's cleared for work after two weeks of leave, sufficiently recovered from the concussion and the bruising, but Buck's still wary of putting additional strain on his healing body. It's not as though he thinks of Eddie like a glass figurine, liable to shatter at any moment, he just…can't get the image of Eddie's bloodied and bruised form out of his head. He'd barely slept for the two days that the doctors had kept Eddie in the hospital because he'd been so worried, so even now, even after he's been cleared, he's still afraid of causing some sort of further injury.
"Come on," Eddie says with a tug at his fingers, eyebrows twitching towards his bedroom, but Buck shakes his head. He'll kiss Eddie lightly on the cheek or his lips, he'll curl up on the couch with him, he'll hold hands, but…but he can't bring himself to do more than that. What if Eddie's bruised ribs get reinjured? What if he hits his head on the bedframe? What if he twists his ankle the wrong way and sprains it again? Logically, Buck knows, he should just trust the doctors.
Emotionally, it's not that easy.
He refuses to think about how he's probably acting like Bobby did after he threw a clot, but every time he thinks about that mountain of rock coming towards them, he wants to cry and wrap his arms around Eddie to shelter him from the world.
"Buck…"
Buck loosens the grip and tries not to relent when Eddie pouts at him. "I need to get back to my apartment, Eds."
"You're not staying?"
"It's late," Buck points out, because it's definitely after eleven and he's been dozing in front of the TV for at least an hour. Eddie's warm weight had been comforting, and he already misses it.
"And? You can stay."
"I can but-" Buck can't explain how the nightmares have returned, how they've affected him more nights than not lately. He can't wake Eddie up in his panic. Within a few hours, Bobby and Maddie would know and it wouldn't take long after that for Athena, Chim and Hen to find out. Then there'd be talk about returning to therapy or maybe it'd be another sordid tale in one of Chim and Hen's 'stories'. He just wants to protect the limited privacy that he has. "It's not as though I live here, you know. I have an apartment. I should sleep there sometimes."
Eddie looks disbelieving, the sparkle in his eyes suggesting he's holding something back, but he doesn't protest further because they both know when to avoid pushing an issue to avoid an argument. They both know how short Eddie's fuse can be, and how stubbornly Buck will close himself off from talking.
And so Buck settles in for another semi-sleepless night, fingers fiddling with the sheets that cover his chest in between bouts of nightmarish nonsense.
Buck just about jumps a foot in the air when Eddie's arms wind around his waist, chin hooking over his shoulder at the start of shift, just as he's finishing the last button on his shirt and after Chim had left the changeroom.
"Your place after shift," Eddie murmurs against his ear, his breath warm and tickly against his skin. It's not a question, but Buck still gets halfway through opening his mouth before there's a quick kiss to the side of his neck. "No arguments."
So Buck lifts his jaw and seals his mouth shut.
He's not sure why Eddie wants to come over, why he's inviting himself over. Usually if they're going to hang out, Buck ends up back at Eddie's place. It's more convenient with Chris. He wonders if Chris is coming too.
It's halfway through their shift before he starts to realise Eddie's playing a long game of the worst kind. At first it had been catching his eyes and smiling, because Buck feels a little fluttery and starry-eyed when Eddie dazzles him with a smile. Then it had been soft touches to his shoulders or arms, and at least a couple of grazes at his waist which were innocent enough to anyone who knew they were together but they typically kept PDA to a minimum when they were at the station, so it still surprises him.
Then he realises some of Eddie's smiles were more like smirks that make him look like a plotting shark and the fluttery feeling is replaced with a twist of heat in his veins.
"Stop it," he mutters to Eddie as he passes his boyfriend to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. His boyfriend, who is nonchalantly sitting at the table with Hen, like he hasn't a care in the world.
"Stop what?" Eddie says lightly, too lightly, and Buck knows that faux-innocent game. Chris had used it to trick them into admitting they had feelings for each other.
He turns a withering glare over his shoulder at Eddie but his asshole of a boyfriend simply lifts his eyebrows in confusion, a pout on his bottom lip. Just like his son. And almost as cute.
Buck's attention returns to fetching the water bottle and he manages a few mouthfuls before the sirens ring again.
In between the calls through the second half of the shift, Eddie ramps up his touches and the smirks by adding a look in his eyes that Buck's fairly sure contain smoke within them. He retreats to the bathroom after a simple call to splash some water on his face and hears footsteps following him, and he knows Eddie well enough to know the measure of his footfalls.
"So now you're following me into the bathroom?" he accuses and Eddie shrugs, toying with the straps of his suspenders.
"Can't a guy just take a leak?"
Buck huffs and tries to claim that yes, of course, but…he doesn't trust Eddie. Not for a second. Not when he's been pursuing him all over the station all shift.
And he's clearly right not to trust Eddie because as soon as his boyfriend has entered the bathroom and shut the door, he flicks the latch and crowds Buck up against the counter.
"What are you doing?" Buck mumbles against Eddie's lips, wondering if this is a scene out of one of Chim and Hen's goddamn stories.
"Proving I'm okay," Eddie murmurs, tipping his chin up and pressing their lips together firmly. His tongue licks into Buck's mouth and it doesn't last long, ten or fifteen seconds at most which feels like several versions of a lifetime, but after all the hours of being looked at, the urge to finally touch amid all the kissing is strong.
Which is of course the point that Eddie pulls away, a satisfied smile on his swollen lips while Buck's fingers grope at empty air.
"That's unfair," he protests, but Eddie flashes him another of those dazzling smiles – or smirks, this one is definitely laced with that calculating look in his eyes – and then he's gone in a whirl after unlatching the door and moving to peel away his turnout pants.
And Buck tries vainly to reduce how red his cheeks and lips are, tries to think about puppies and kittens and teddy bears, to will down the way Eddie's brief kiss had caught the attention of his dick.
Buck naively thought Eddie would join him straight after the shift, so he's been restlessly pacing around his apartment for hours. He's neatened his bed, sorted the cushions on the couch, washed and dried and put away dishes. Anything to keep busy. Anything to stop thinking about why Eddie is coming over or what he wants or what they'll do.
It doesn't help that he doesn't know if Chris is coming, so he keeps trying to quell the heat in his blood.
He's drumming his fingers on his bouncing knees by the time he hears the knock at the door, and he tries not to appear too eager although he almost certainly does as he leaps up to answer it. His eyes roam over Eddie, and around Eddie, ascertaining Chris isn't with him. Instead of his hand in his son's, Eddie is carrying a box. Buck eyes it with undisguised curiosity.
"He's with Abuela," Eddie explains, then rolls his eyes at Buck's arched eyebrow. "You keep refusing to stay at my place so I decided I needed to determine what was so great about your mattress."
Buck opens his mouth to reply except he's not sure how. There are so many things he could offer as weak explanations or poorly concealed lies, because he doesn't want to admit to his renewed difficulties when it comes to sleeping. His face feels warm as he glances towards his feet.
"Can I come in?"
Buck nods without question because hasn't he been waiting hours for this? He shuffles aside and shuts the door once Eddie enters, watching his boyfriend off his shoes with his toes and steer them towards the rack. Buck feels like he's watching too closely, fingers fidgeting by his sides and toying with the fabric of his jeans. Is it his imagination or is Eddie moving slower than usual?
"You want to go upstairs?"
Buck's eyes skip over Eddie's frame, his suspicions about why Eddie had truly invited himself over confirmed with a single, simple question. He knows he can still feel the ridge of a healing scar along Eddie's scalp when he strokes his hair while curled up on the couch together, and it's hard to just let that go as he sways a little on the spot. "You were hurt."
"I was hurt a month ago, Buck. I'm okay now."
Buck's fingers move to fiddling with the hem of his shirt, a nervous tic when he's warring between his own indecisiveness as to what he wants. Eddie's free hand reaches towards him, settling over the top of his knuckles, gentle and reassuring. Buck's eyes gradually lift and now that he's looking, he can see they're more dilated than usual. Eddie's gaze sweeps over him, calm and assessing, keeping Buck frozen to the spot as he lets his boyfriend search for whatever he's looking for.
"Go upstairs, Evan. Strip. Sit on the end of your bed and wait for me."
Buck almost pouts because hasn't he waited long enough for Eddie to come over? Now he's being sent away to sit and wait some more? Still, his heart leaps at the easy series of commands, the confidence in Eddie's tone telling him what to do. It's not often they've fooled around with additional…things in the bedroom – blindfolds once, and loose hand ties a couple of times, when Buck thought his cheeks might sprout flames for asking if Eddie might be into experimenting with it. It had led to a very long conversation when Chris was at school long before Eddie had been injured, discussing what they each would or wouldn't like, writing some of the ideas down that had disappeared…somewhere in Eddie's room. So this… He recognises this as Eddie sliding into the role of taking control and Buck won't pretend a shiver doesn't ripple down his spine at the thought of giving it up after he's avoided pushing for more than a kiss in a month.
"Okay," he agrees, turning and darting up his stairs without a second glance or any further hesitation. He realises a beat too late that he probably looks overwhelmingly eager for someone who has had his doubts about making out with Eddie on his couch. But right now, he can't remember why that's a problem.
He does as Eddie requests, piling his clothes into the hamper by the bathroom door, but he doesn't realise just how weird it is to sit naked and waiting for someone until he's actually doing it. He's certainly sat and waited for people before but naked? That's new, and his fingers knit together into a knot while he squirms and fidgets on the edge of the bed, toes curling and uncurling and pushing through the carpet. The restless energy is back, the uncertainty of what is going to happen, the buzzing anticipation because he hadn't expected Eddie to assert himself like that. When he strains his hearing, he can hear the door to his fridge opening and he frowns towards the stairs, but he can't see what the hell Eddie is doing.
It's several more minutes before he hears Eddie's footsteps on the stairs, his heartbeat leaping from his chest to his throat, and only a few moments after that when his boyfriend comes into view with the box still beneath his arm. Buck wonders what's inside it. "Stay there."
Buck's not sure where else he's meant to go but he complies, his toes still tapping as Eddie sits behind him. Every nerve feels like it's straining towards his boyfriend when he feels the bed dip, fighting against the urge to just lean backwards. It's a long few seconds before Eddie's hands curve over his bare shoulders, drawing a soft gasp at how easily some of the tension unspools with the touch, and feeling the warm swirl of comfort at his boyfriend's chest pressing against his back to cradle him.
"What do you say if you want to end it?" Eddie murmurs against his ear, hands skimming down his arms.
Buck swallows, his throat dry, because they might have talked about this a few months ago but they'd never actually gone that far that he'd ever felt the need to use it. But if Eddie's asking that, then he must have plans and Buck's sure his heart is about ready to leap out of his throat. "Lizard."
Eddie hums approvingly, fingers nestling against the curve of Buck's elbows. "And the colours?"
"Red to stop and catch my breath, yellow to…to slow down and adjust, green because everything's okay," he says after a beat of trying to remember all the parts of that conversation and what they'd agreed upon.
Eddie's lips brush against the back of his neck and it feels like an affirmation that he did the right thing. He shivers as those hands drift from his elbows to his chest, smoothing down his belly. "I want to prove to you I'm okay," Eddie whispers, something rough creeping into his tone. "I want to take you out of your own head." There's a pause as Eddie's fingers catch on the tip of his cock, which is already half-hard and curving towards his belly. "I want you to make you scream."
Buck inhales sharply because he hadn't expected Eddie to want to do that. And even though something inside him flails a little at the thought of losing control like that, he can't deny the way he relaxes into Eddie's hold. Another kiss to the back of his shoulders helps the syrupy feeling around him too.
"Please…" he breathes, willing to give into anything Eddie wants because if there's one thing Eddie knows how to do well, it's how to screw him senseless.
The hands move off his skin and some of the fog across Buck's thoughts clears. A moment later, there's the sound of rustling cardboard and the view of his bedroom wall disappears behind silky fabric. Eddie's fingers smooth the blindfold into place across his eyes, knuckles brushing against his scalp when he knots it at the back of his head.
"How's that?" Eddie says and Buck's certain the flush that has to be creeping down his chest is enough of an answer.
"It's good, Eds," he answers easily and tries not to twitch too much when he feels the bed shift again, the depression behind him vanishing. He tilts his head as he follows the sound of Eddie moving around his loft. He can hear the whisper of fabric shifting, the clank of his buckle, and guesses his boyfriend is undressing. He almost whines at being denied the opportunity to watch each inch of skin get exposed.
"Look at you like that, Evan. So patient for me. So good."
Buck doesn't usually hear anyone use his first name but like this, laced with such heat, it makes something inside him melt. He looks towards where Eddie's voice emanates but a moment later, he senses his boyfriend is right in front of him. There's a small tremble at how vulnerable he is without his sight, how trusting he has to be of the man he loves, but he's not afraid. Instead, his breath hitches when gentle fingers curve under his jaw, a thumb at the edge of his lips prising his mouth open.
He's about to ask what Eddie wants when the velvety soft skin and familiar weight of his boyfriend's cock slides past his lips and over his tongue. It's barely even half-hard but Buck moans happily around it anyway. Eddie might have discovered Buck has a fairly significant oral fixation early on in the progression of their relationship, and it was through Buck kneeling to suck Eddie's cock that his boyfriend had realised the undeniable submissive streak as well. Blinded like this, he's forced to give into Eddie, letting his boyfriend take what he wants from his mouth, but there's still that annoying voice which worries about Eddie hurting himself. The blackened skin of his bruised torso had scared the hell out of me.
"You're gonna get me hard," Eddie orders, his hand on Buck's jaw keeping his head steady as he rolls his hips back and forth, his length sliding further and further into Buck's more-than-willing mouth, "but you aren't going to taste my release. Understood?"
Buck gives a small hum of acknowledgement and a weak attempt at a nod against the hand holding him still. Eddie exhales, his free hand stroking through Buck's hair the way he knows Buck likes. And this is… It's easy like this, because Buck can taste the lingering traces of Eddie's soap and smell that sweet, musky scent that stains his skin. There's nothing he can do except take what he's given, sinking into Eddie's touch and keeping his mouth, throat and jaw relaxed. He can feel the way Eddie's cock hardens and swells on his tongue, the way his cock fills out his cheeks and precum slides down his throat, the way the ridge of veins become more pronounced. Eddie's confidence in Buck's abilities – his knowledge that he can take more because they've done this so many times, but not for a while – is clear when he touches Buck's throat to tilt his chin higher. Buck barely has a chance to breathe before Eddie's cock slides all the way in, sealing inside his mouth and deep into his throat. There are a few brief seconds where Buck's heart hammers against his chest and his lungs heave for a breath he can't take, held in place with his nose squished against the trimmed curls at the base of his boyfriend's cock.
And then Eddie withdraws to the point of the tip resting on Buck's tongue and allowing him the chance to gasp an inhale and whimper at how much he loves Eddie using him like this.
"Such a good boy, Evan," Eddie whispers, petting his hair and making Buck's bones feel like they're dissolving into honey. His tongue traces over the line of his boyfriend's cock and Eddie hums, his thumb smoothing over his swollen, spit-slick bottom lip. "So greedy for it, aren't you? So keen to be my good boy and take everything I give you."
Buck does his best to whine but the sound is choked off when Eddie surges forward into his throat again, stifling his airflow. Over and over and over Eddie thrusts into him and Buck vaguely remembers what his boyfriend had said about not tasting the release and wonders if he's had a change of heart, but Buck can't focus on it for long because his attention keeps drifting and that annoying voice has silenced. He briefly wonders if that had been part of his boyfriend's plan all along, but even that thought doesn't last long before it floats away.
"Well done, Evan," Eddie murmurs after he'd just held his cock in Buck's throat for several seconds longer than before, long enough for Buck to see dark spots behind the dark fabric of the blindfold. His boyfriend's voice sounds strained and Buck feels a shiver of warm satisfaction pool in his belly at the praise that Eddie is always so willing to give him in bed. "You think you're ready for me to take you apart now? Think all that worrying has faded?"
Buck's not sure how he feels about how well Eddie knows him, that there'd even been a voice of worry that must have been loud enough for his boyfriend to hear, but he twitches a small nod and runs his tongue along the swollen veins of his cock as an answer.
"Good boy," Eddie says, running fingers through his hair and tugging lightly at his curls. "In a moment, you're going to move up the bed. I will squeeze your shoulder to let you know when you can move. You're going to lay on your back and you're going to raise your arms above your head so I can tie them to your railing. Okay?"
Buck gives another nod and feels Eddie release him. His mouth feels empty and his lips tingle from the friction and it's a struggle not to whine for what he misses, but he can hear Eddie shifting around him, can hear the scrape of the box sliding off the bed behind him, and then there's the squeeze to his shoulder. He hastens to obey the orders, scooting backwards until his head finds the pillow and lifting his arms obediently.
The bed wobbles again and he can feel the lowering of the mattress beside him where Eddie kneels. A moment later, there's another silken tie looped around one wrist that gets attached to the railing, followed almost immediately by other hand being secured in place. He gives an experimental tug and the ties hold, leaving an excited fluttering in his chest.
"Colour?"
"Green," he says without needing to think, though his voice sounds raspy and not at all like his own. A hand curves over his cheek and he leans into it automatically, savouring the rush of warmth that moves through his veins with the affection.
"You gonna be so good for me, Evan? Gonna listen to everything I ask of you?"
"Y-Yeah," he agrees with a nod, because even if some part of him is still wary of Eddie being hurt, he's already strung out and entirely at Eddie's mercy like this. He knows it would only take a word, or a colour, and everything would come to a screeching halt but he's not uncomfortable. In fact, everything already feels a little hazy around the edges, and he keeps licking at his lips to find the traces of his boyfriend's taste.
"Yeah, what?"
His breath hitches at how firm the hand turns on his cheek. "Yes, Sir?" he tries, because they hadn't really talked about…about names but it feels…natural, almost, somehow, and Eddie grunts his approval.
"Much better."
The hand on his cheek disappears and then reappears at his cock. Somewhere amid Eddie using his mouth while he'd sat on the edge of the bed, he'd gotten incredibly hard and he tilts his hips up hopefully. Eddie tuts at him and something firm slides around his length, snapping into place around the base of his cock and the top of his balls. It takes him a moment and then he sags onto the mattress in disappointment.
Fuck.
"You're not going to let go unless I allow you, Evan," Eddie says, and his voice has that dark, commanding tone again. The one that sends a shudder down Buck's spine. The one that makes him want to melt into anything his boyfriend demands. The one that spills heat through his belly even though he's not being touched. "No matter how badly you want to, no matter how much you plead, you're going to wait until I give the order. I will make you scream. Understood?"
Buck's sure he flushes behind the blindfold and his heart is racing so hard in his chest that Eddie has to be able to hear it. "I u-understand, Sir."
"What's your word if you want to stop?"
Buck swallows, because if they're going through this again then…then he knows he's in for it. "L-Lizard."
"And your colours?"
"Red, yellow, and green."
Eddie's fingers smooth through his hair, trail down his cheek, tip up his chin to expose more of his throat. "And how are you now?"
"Green, Sir." Aside from feeling like he's as red as a Stop sign, he thinks he's surely so green that he has to be glowing with it
"Good boy. Then remember, you're to wait until I tell you," Eddie repeats and then his hands are at Buck's head and something closes around his ears and he's plunged into silence.
Utterly deafening silence that completely disorientates him.
He can't help the whine that spills out of him because he realises just how much Eddie can do to him like this, just how far Eddie can push before he snaps in half, and he's not scared. He's probably more hard than he's ever been in his life and he has to fucking wait.
The pressure on the bed moves and Buck can sense the weight of Eddie above him. There's a nudge against his lips and he parts his mouth without hesitating, the slide of his boyfriend's cock over his tongue familiar and missed even though it had to have only been a few minutes. It takes him a few moments of tracing the shape of veins to realise that it's upside down and maybe he does something which makes Eddie know that he knows, because then his boyfriend rocks forward and pushes all the way down his throat in one swift movement. All he can do is gurgle a moan at being taken like this, at being used, because Eddie's definitely never done that before, and he can barely do anything except lazily lift his tongue or close his lips as Eddie moves slowly back to give him a chance to breathe, and then forward again, over and over.
The smell of Eddie's sweat and the taste of his precum are just about overwhelming, as is the heat that floods him and covers him from above. He can imagine what he must look like: spread out on the bed, tied down, blind, deaf, utterly defenceless and loving every minute. He's surprised Eddie doesn't gag him too just for the hell of it, but maybe that defeats the point if he's meant to scream. He's not even sure if he will but he suspects Eddie's got this all meticulously planned and his blood surges louder through his ears with the exhilaration and anticipation of what is to come.
Another groan surges up his throat when a hand presses into the groove of his leg to pin his hips, and then a familiar, calloused hand starts jerking him off as Eddie continues to roll into and out of his mouth and throat. The hand moves faster than Eddie's cock does, forcing him to swallow and gasp breaths when he can, almost gagging on it all as he surrenders into the way Eddie manipulates his body. He's fully hard with the ring around his cock, teetering on the brink, his full mouth and throat teasing him with the promise of what he could take if Eddie wanted him to, shuddering at how utterly strung out he is already.
He's not sure how long Eddie keeps him there, trapped between giving a blowjob and receiving a handjob, but he's writhing and almost sobbing against the cock in his throat when it finally ends. His bones have crumbled into dust and his muscles have liquified. He feels Eddie climb away and he whimpers at the loss of all the warmth, restless at losing the touch of his boyfriend which had been grounding in the dark silence. He can still feel Eddie's cock sliding over his tongue, can still taste it on his lips, can still feel him everywhere, and he rocks absently against the bed in search of providing some sort of friction even though his cock is curved towards his belly and his ass clenches around nothing.
It could be seconds or it could be minutes that pass before something happens next but he knows he gasps in surprise when something cold skims over his chest. Ice, his brain helpfully supplies, as the cube circles around his nipple from wherever Eddie's managed to position himself because his weight hadn't returned to the bed and so he caught Buck unawares. Buck's not sure whether to twitch into or away from the freezing sensation considering how overheated his body feels. His skin prickles, erupting in goosebumps when the cube travels from his sternum down the middle of his belly, left behind in the hollow of his bellybutton to melt droplets over his heaving stomach.
The bed shakes to his left and there's another ice cube, this one moving from the thundering pulse in his throat to drift across his collarbone and back to the hollow of his throat. He's just starting to get used to shivering at the cold sensation when something burns near his nipple and he hisses, jerking against the restrains. The burning sensation is gone a moment later when a finger swipes over it and he's not even sure how much it had hurt because the freezing ice sweeps over the location a moment later to soothe away the pain.
He's trapped beneath Eddie's torturous combination of ice and heat, which he eventually realises must be wax dropping onto various dots of his skin. He almost starts to get used to how the ice sweeps across one location to chill him and then the wax is dripped, followed by the ice again to scrape away the wax and avoid any actual damage to his skin. He moans and writhes at the path that Eddie tracks over his chest and down towards his belly, the cube in his bellybutton streaking icy liquid over his abs and waist. There's a damp patch behind his back that he keeps shuddering into and his cock, as hard as ever, is almost certainly leaking all over his belly.
There's a burst of ice on the tip of his cock and Buck flinches, knowing what to expect next, but the heat that appears this time is the soft, warm flesh of Eddie's mouth. He groans at the contrast in temperatures, at the offer of some sort of relief, before a sharp cry escapes him when he feels the sting of wax on the inside of his thigh. Eddie only lasts at his cock for a few, far too brief, seconds and then he's gone again, the weight on the bed moving. Buck can't help the sobs that break out of him, wondering if he survived that particular ordeal correctly and surprised at how much he'd enjoyed it. It was something he knew Eddie had been interested in playing with and Buck had said he was okay with trying it. And now… Now every part of him is straining for more – more ice, more wax, more touch, he doesn't fucking care – while also being equally afraid of what Eddie might have dreamt up next that threatens to push him over the edge if it wasn't for the goddamn ring around his cock.
One side of the headphones lifts. "Colour?" Eddie's voice is so rough it's like gravel, and Buck shivers for reasons entirely unrelated to the lingering chill from the ice.
"G-Green, Sir," he says without hesitating, because there's no doubt that he's still incredibly, very much, absolutely okay. "D-Did I do good?"
"So good, baby," Eddie praises and Buck feels like he sees stars behind the blindfold. The headphones settle against him and he's plunged back into the silent waiting again, but he knows there's a goofy smile of delighted satisfaction on his lips.
It's definitely minutes this time before he feels Eddie's fingers at his ankles. He follows their gentle push to lift his legs towards his body and splay his legs open unashamedly. He wiggles against the mattress to try to get comfortable, fingers curling uselessly above his head. More minutes pass before wet heat circles his cock again and a slick finger pushes directly against his hole. He groans, relaxing into the touch, and the finger sinks into him confidently. He arches his hips into Eddie's mouth but another hand presses at his hips to push him down, down onto the finger that slides slowly and curls within him. Eddie gradually increases his speed but there's only the one finger and it's nowhere near enough to fill him and then he remembers Eddie's words: he has to wait.
He slumps back onto the bed, about ready to sob with need despite how Eddie had said it didn't matter how much he pleaded. Maybe that was the point of the headphones. Maybe it was so that he didn't have to hear Eddie struggle with the urge to break. Or the blindfold, so he didn't have to see what Eddie is thinking.
Eddie's mouth disappears and a second finger joins the first, twisting and spreading and curling within him. A tongue drags over his balls, teeth nibbling at the inside of his thigh until he's certain he'll have the blossom of a mark which no one will see but feels so intimate, so possessive. He rocks into Eddie's fingers for a little more, just a little further within him, needing them to thrust harder. It only gets worse when the pair of fingers rub deliberately within him, over and over against the swollen nub of his prostate until the weight of everything is building and building and threatening to crash over him.
And then it's gone.
Everything stops and he collapses back onto the bed, tears streaming down his face again as he aches to be filled, aches for Eddie's mouth on his cock, aches to have his mouth on Eddie's cock, fucking anything. The tingling that spread throughout his system gradually fades, the heaved breaths gradually lessening, and some of the burning starts to reduce when Eddie starts up again. This time, a third finger wiggles in and there's a small burst of pain at the stretch before the rubbing and stretching melts again into pleasure. It doesn't take as long for the next wave to form, rocking his hips down against the three fingers with wanton abandon because he just needs- he just needs-
Eddie mouth returns to the tip of his cock, tongue running around the head and pushing into the slit to gather what has to be spilling a mess all over his belly, and Buck can only make unintelligible noises. His senses are completely overwhelmed, lost to just about everything except for touch, shaking on the edge and writhing beneath the control that Eddie exerts over him, playing him like a goddamn fiddle, pushing him to his limits of physical sensation and making his heart beat so hard he's surprised it doesn't evacuate his ribcage.
The mouth disappears and the fucking ring around his cock starts vibrating and his brain whites out with what has to be a shrill cry, bolts of lightning flooding his system but there's not that same surge of release he's used to, it doesn't really feel like he came. The fingers are removed from him next and something too hard, too cool, too smooth pushes into him almost immediately after but he's almost sobbing from whatever vibrating cock ring he has on which pushes him over the edge, repeatedly, surely, too fast, because how is he meant to have the control to wait for Eddie's command if- if- if-
The vibrations cease and Buck can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed. Some sort of sound that he can't hear chokes out of his lungs and whatever toy Eddie's pushed into his ass moves back and forth, back and forth, firm and a little rough in a crude mimicry of being fucked. Buck trembles uncontrollably, certain he's going to lose his sanity as he babbles nonsense while trying to work his hips against whatever dildo, or maybe another vibrator, is shoved into him and then withdrawn. He wants more, needs more, aching to just be bent over and fucked until he screams the way Eddie desires so badly, but he remembers how his boyfriend had said he could plead an awful lot and he'd still have to wait and he deflates back to the bed.
Which is when the vibrations return, and he just about jolts off the bed and slams down onto the toy in surprise, which he could guarantee makes him shriek.
The hand controlling the toy vanishes and Buck, a puddle of shaking limbs, utterly useless in the dark silence with his hands above his head, is almost lost to it all when he feels the toy shudder to life within him at the same time as the cock ring stops. There's an alternating rhythm in the toy travelling through him, and just when he starts to writhe against it in search of more, in search of trying to angle it against his prostate, it cuts out and the cock ring starts again. He realises, far too late, that they're both controlled by some sort of remote and Eddie is probably watching from the base of the bed with eyes so dark they'd be black, tearing him apart and wrecking him completely until he's utterly incoherent with the need for it to end.
The vibrations go back and forth between the ring and the toy, forcing him to teeter on the edge again and again until he's torn backwards when it starts to feel too much. There are tears streaming down his face, past the fabric of the blindfold, and overheated oxygen sticks in his lungs when he manages to snatch a breath. He can't possibly keep track of how many times Eddie's pushed him to the brink only to pull him back. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Everything aches. He'll do anything. Anything to make it end.
When everything stops abruptly, he can't stop shuddering on the bed. His ability to control it is spent. He's spent, but he can't even attempt to mount a plea, can't even pretend to know how to work his mouth.
The constriction around his cock eases slightly and the best he can do is moan weakly, because the tight constriction was certainly starting to hurt if he thought about it for too long. A hand moves to the headphones, lifting one side again, but he can't even lean into it anymore.
"You gonna scream for me if I let you have your release, baby?"
Buck whimpers because he's so hard and so desperate that he'll do anything. All the ice in the world won't be enough to cool him down anymore.
"You're gonna hold off as long as you can and then you're going to let go because you're my good boy."
Buck's not stupid enough to protest with the commanding words and the headphone slots over his ear again.
This time, the vibrations start simultaneously. There's a low buzz that spreads through all of his limbs, and it's almost, almost, pleasant if he wasn't so overstimulated. It'd be easy to get carried away, to gyrate against the toy inside him until he explodes, but he forces his hips down, tries to keep himself contained, tries to hold off as requested because he wants to be good. So good. The best.
The buzzing steadily increases, incremental bit by incremental bit, and it's not long before Buck is writhing again, crying under the pressure building within him. He can feel the sticky spill on his belly and every time he rocks down, the toy within him pushes deeper, nailing against the nub that makes sparks flare under his skin. The cock ring is still tight, but no longer so restrictive, and he's lost amid the building need, the expanding pleasure, the way everything gets tighter and tighter and hotter and hotter, almost forgetting that he's at the whims of someone else as he chases the high that makes every muscle contract so tight.
And then there's one final surge of increased vibrations and it all shatters apart.
He thinks he screams because there's no other possible reaction to the force of what smashes through him. He's seized with such heart-stopping force that his spine bows under the strain of it, and then everything rips through him, shredding him over and over again, seizing him in a current beyond his control as he convulses with the strength of what tears through him. He can't breathe, can't think, can't move, mouth parted in stunned disbelief before his body slumps into the welcoming embrace of the darkness covering his eyes.
He gradually becomes aware of his chest heaving for breath, and his heart hammering against his ribcage, and his arms and legs shaking with the continued waves of heat that crash through him. He's flying and he's floating, rolling on the swell that sweeps through him, his fingertips and toes curling with sparks, his brain melting out of his ears.
Maybe that's why it feels so confusing when he becomes more aware of being moved, and it's an embarrassing beat too long when he realises that the repetitive motion is Eddie rocking into him. Somewhere in his lapse of concentration, the toy had been replaced by the thicker length of his boyfriend's cock. Eddie's thrusts are hard and fast, knowing the angle to use to surge against his prostate, to add to the dazzling colours Buck can see in the darkness, fresh bursts of heat that burn through him. Eddie's pace is relentless, so rough that he'll walk funny and so hard he won't be able to sit properly for days, coaxing him towards the edge again as he grinds the tip of his cock against Buck's prostate again and again. His arms twist uselessly against the bindings, his legs feeling like jelly when Eddie hitches them higher, nowhere to go but take it, take everything his boyfriend gives him, the ferocity stunning, the proof that there's nothing his boyfriend can't do after his injury clear. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago that he lost his mind but there's a faint buzz around his cock from that fucking ring again and Buck's gone, absolutely gone, torn apart a second time with a scream that has to be louder than last time and almost certainly shreds his throat.
There's a haze that finally envelopes him in the dark silence, that makes everything feel faraway and unreal. Buck can feel the slam of Eddie's body into him, the shaking that spills down his hands when his boyfriend finds his release, and he thinks there's a flood of heat that fills him. He's too wrecked to do anything except lay there, shaking like a leaf and accepting what he's given, surrendering into each touch, unable to move against the slower roll of Eddie's hips, acutely aware of the twitch of the cock that releases some more within him. It's sooner than usual when he starts to whine with the oversensitivity of Eddie stilling, an almost uncomfortable feeling of being full and completely fucked out, but when Eddie withdraws, he also whines at the loss of heat and pressure against his chest.
He only has to wait a few moments before something soft and warm and damp drags over his chest and he's powerless to resist the way he sinks into the mattress to allow Eddie to take care of cleaning him up. There's no possible way to entertain moving to the bathroom for a shower after that. The restriction around his cock lessens but he's fairly certain he whimpers when he feels something firm push inside him again, fingers smoothing against his crack to seal whatever it is comfortably against his rim. He feels…full, but content, and he's not sure how Eddie knew he'd enjoy that after what he'd been put through, but they usually lay tangled together for a while after because Buck enjoys the feeling of closeness with his boyfriend inside of him, enjoys the intimacy of being so connected to someone else. After this, though, he's far too sore to even consider Eddie continuing to move lazily within him. Whatever Eddie's used feels shorter than a dildo, and he assumes it's probably a plug, something to seal him up with warm satisfaction. His hips squirm a little on the bed at the thought of remaining stretched for more later, of Eddie easing out the toy and taking him slower, gentler, making him feel every inch until he's panting. What else might be in that box? What else might Eddie do? It's too soon for his cock to be interested again but his blood stays heated.
He regains his hearing first, and Eddie's soothing tenor washes over him with praise and love. It sinks so deeply into Buck's skin that it surely imprints on his bones, scatters through his muscles, buries itself into his DNA. A dazed smile drifts over his face and he hums, a little hoarse and a lot broken, at Eddie's hand cradling his cheek and his thumb smoothing over his swollen, bitten lips.
"Such a good boy for me, Evan… You did so good… I'm so proud of you…" Eddie's words stream endlessly and Buck sighs in something akin to utter bliss because this…this is the best part and they've never gone at anything that hard before. Fingers fiddle at his wrists next, removing the ties, smoothing over his strained muscles and kneading into his forearms and biceps to help restore blood flow through his veins, helping ease the prickling in his fingertips. "You did so well for me, baby… So much better than I could have ever dreamed… So utterly beautiful laid out for me like that and taking everything..."
Every muscle still feels like it's quivering as Eddie settles beside him, tugging Buck into his side. He ends up with an arm sprawled over his boyfriend's chest and he hooks a knee that traps Eddie's leg. The blindfold remains and for some reason it's comforting, it helps, because everything feels so raw and overstimulated that he feels like the light in his apartment would be too much right now and it's easier, calmer, just to listen to Eddie's words and his heartbeat, to feel his hands drift wherever they want to roam. He presses against Eddie's chest, basking in the feeling of his boyfriend's fingers drawing letters or shapes or words on his back that he can't pay attention to long enough because he keeps getting distracted by Eddie's breathing, or the musky smell of his sweat, or shivering when he remembers the force of everything ripping through him over and over.
Fingers comb through his hair and he exhales a long, slow breath. More than anything, this is the part he loves about sex with Eddie. He doesn't care about the orgasms, doesn't care about whatever kink might get played with this time or next time. It's the gentleness afterwards, the unspoken promise to stay, to hold him through everything that lingers, which is a far deeper intimacy than getting fucked to the point of screaming. It's a security that he's only found in Eddie's embrace afterwards, and it's something he never wants to run the risk of losing.
"You doing okay?" Eddie murmurs, fingers trailing down the back of his neck and across his shoulders, almost certainly creating another eruption of goosebumps in his wake.
Buck doesn't trust himself to speak so he just nods, burrowing against the firm plains of muscle and relaxing into the wandering hands, the stroking fingers, the steady rise and fall of Eddie's chest. He doesn't even realise that he's being carried away to sleep until he hears the quiet, rumbled chuckle of his boyfriend and then his awareness fades away again into the first piece of dreamless sleep he's had in weeks…
~FIN~