Steve CANNOT EVEN right now.

If you had told him that he was able to finally slave away enough funds from his two jobs working both in the ice cream parlour and the video store to get him Corroded Coffin tickets in Indianapolis, he literally would have cried. Then again, he'd already done that. Dustin had been making fun of him the whole week leading up to the 2-day round trip, the little shit. Didn't matter though, because he'd managed to get them and he was one of the lucky ones. Corroded Coffin was fucking hard to get anything from given they were so goddamn popular.

Steven knew of the story, knew the band members' backstories, knew everything - because Hawkins was ground zero of Corroded Coffin's origin. The band was literally four local heroes that had put Hawkins on the map more than Starcourt Mall had. So, because of that, getting tickets to them was a straight line to popularity and it had to lead to several people, young and old alike, begging to come with him to the concert only for him to say he'd only managed to secure one ticket and one alone.

(Plus, if he had managed to get another, Robin, his best friend, would come. Period.)

That one ticket had gotten him into where he was now, completely tied up on his stomach and being straddled on the cleanest hotel bed he'd seen in a while. He would have commented on the cleanliness of metal singers, but a tug of his hair had sent his eyeballs rolling into the back of his head as a moan sounded from deep in his throat, a loud chuckle followed by the sharp pain of cigarette ash hitting his spine.

"Geez, Harrington, who knew you were such a bottom?"

Edward "Eddie" Munson. Christ, Steve had obviously had a few wet dreams about him, it was to be expected. Given Steve was bisexual and even while he was with Nancy and other girls and maybe a guy or two, he had fanboyed over Corroded Coffin's lead singer like his mere presence was a religion. Of course, he never told anyone about that, as not only was it totally /not/ their business, he didn't want people to think he was like, really fucked up.

Not like the current situation he was in right now /wasn't/ fucked up, but you know, he didn't exactly picture his night really ending, or more likely, starting here.

He had arrived in Indianapolis barely awake, running on several gas station energy drinks and one too many roadhouse coffees, but no less excited to see the band that Hawkins had practically birthed, several disposable cameras packed into his weekender that he planned to sneak in under his jacket and jeans. No security guard was stopping his ass from commemorating this moment, they could suck his dick if they objected otherwise.

Turns out he was in for way more than his dick being sucked. In fact, he was pretty sure his dick was literally drilling through the plush mattress of the bed and down to the wooden slats it was that hard as Eddie kept torturing him from above his eyeline, the lead singer and guitarist's hand travelling to places Steve usually didn't have hands go and taking his breath away making him choke, the callouses from years of playing his NJ Warlock running over Steve's skin like strings and making his body sing.

It was just so similar to the way Eddie played, Steve's frayed memory returning to the mosh pit in the centre of the concert venue that Corroded Coffin completely trashed by the show's end, which was just the most normal thing in the world for them given they were not only a metal band, but one that got very into their music. People were blurs of colour, jumping, singing, screaming, the band was on a high and just as they reached their last song's climax, the crowd exploded into just plain noise.

Steve had left that concert buzzing like a bee in the springtime and had to lean against a parked van outside as crowds milled around, pulling out a packet of smokes, but cursing at himself as he realised he'd left his lighter all the way back in his hometown. Great. Looking around, he shrugs to himself as he approaches a leather jacket covered back and taps him on the shoulder. "Hey man, sorry to bother you, you don't have a light do ya?"

Steve practically almost vomits when the figure turns and Eddie FUCKING Munson is standing in front of him, lips curled in a frown that suddenly turns into a smirk as his eyes trace Steve's entire body, making his knees feel weak. "Sure big boy, I got several."

"T-Thankyou." Steve's never stuttered in his life, but he feels so embarrassed right now as Eddie slides his hand into his pocket and flicks him a lighter with the band's symbol on it, Steve unable to hold back his snicker. Of course it would be the merch lighter. His Dad (when he saw him) had banned him from getting anything merch related from Corroded Coffin for years despite him being in his late teens and early 20's due to mostly everyone in Hawkins above 40 thinking they were related to demons and devils and all that jazz.

Honestly, he couldn't care less. The old man didn't give a shit as long as he was out of the way of his work, same as his mother, so it was null and void. Daddy Dearest couldn't say a word to him now. Speaking of shaming his parents, he hastily fingered a smoke from its confines and lit the bastard, the exhale of smoke afterwards giving the environment around him a breezy haze that was startled by the reappearance of Eddie who grinned at him. "Dude, the least you can do after me giving you that lighter is to share. Sharing is caring."

Steve didn't speak, but he was sure his deer in the headlights said a lot as he offered the packet to Eddie a bit zombie-like and watched, transfixed, as the similarly aged man pulled a fag, rolled it between his lips (shit, that was hot) and then lit it, settling next to Steve after a minute, chuckling to himself in surprise. "Well shit, that's some good tobacco. I'd recognise these anywhere. Midwest Magic. You from around here, dude?"

"I'm from…a little far from here. Hawkins, actually." Steve spoke nervously.

"Shit, the hometown huh?" Eddie grinned, dimples becoming apparent on his sweat-stained cheeks, looking back at him. "Thanks for coming out. Haven't seen anyone from Hawkins in like 3 or 4 years. You got a name?"

"Steve." Steven swallowed hard, offering his hand like his parents had taught him, you know, when they cared to be parents. "Steve Harrington."

"Nice to meet you, Harrington." Eddie actually shook his head and Steve almost fainted. Eddie Munson had SHOOK HIS HAND. Oh, the fucking blackmail he could hold over so many people back home. The photos alone that he had would obviously be enough generally after he got them developed when he drove back into town, but this was even better.

"Likewise, Eddie Munson." He managed to choke out to save himself, watching as Eddie took several drags of his pilfered cigarette before he seems to look Steve up and down again, eyes practically raking him inch by inch and making Steve's heart go through its own personal brand on cardio exercise before he finally speaks. "You into guys, Harrington?"

That was not what Steve was expecting to come out of Eddie's mouth and he's sure it shows as he almost bites his own tongue, coughing a little on the smoke he'd just inhaled before he straightened himself out, eyes watering. "I…geez…that's a loaded question, but yeah. Bisexual all the way over here. Have been since I was a tween. You?"

"Let's just say I've had my fair share of partners." Eddie quoted mysteriously before he seems to rise from his slanted position and looks directly at him. "I'm thinking about adding one more to the total however, pardon my crassness."

"Crassness? God, what era of Hawkins did you walk out of Munson? The 50's?" Steve can't help but push back teasingly thanks to the slightly added confidence of being in a public space, but underneath, his entire brain is screaming. Eddie Munson wants to hook up with /him/ of all people. It's made more apparent when Eddie suddenly uses one of his steel studded knees to hold a surprised Steve in place against the van they are next to, ring covered hands lacing themselves into the folds of Steve's ratty ass brown jacket, smirking down at him as Steve's entire world spins on an axis that he never knew existed.

All roads, however, only lead one way and they led all the way back to now, where Steve and Eddie have been for hours doing deplorable things that normally would get them crucified had they been back home instead of the big old city, but it doesn't matter as Steve's entire body lights on fire like those cigarettes had previous, Eddie's long black nails drawing themselves down his back, making him arch and a string of curse words leave him.

Eddie's dick, a rather substantial 11 incher that Steve swears he literally hid because he's a teasing asshole both on stage and in private, is a heavy presence in his backside that is both foreign and welcoming at the same time as he continues to undo him like he's the rope that Eddie's knotted around his hands and to the bedboard to keep him in place, thrusting into him slowly and leaving him a moaning, whimpering mess on the sheets.

It's almost too much once Eddie somehow bends down low enough to keep his dick inside him, but then is able to run hot breath from the backs of his ears and down his neck. His whole body engulfs in even more flames his blood feels like it's boiling as the breathing gets closer and closer before he can feel the painful sinking in of teeth and that's what brings him over the edge, his whole body going rigid before it's limp and sinking into the pillows and silken material that's swallowing him up as his head spins with stars galore.

Eddie seems to have made his backside a mess as well and is in the same hazy yet relaxed state, given there is a slick squelching sound and a slide across his lower half before he finds himself the little spoon in an unexpected cocoon, featherlight kisses trailing across his shoulder blades as a hand snakes up to bury itself in his pubes, as if to keep him there.

Fat chance he would even be considering the idea of leaving now.

Instead, he buries his whole ass into Eddie's crotch and lets him get closer, those sloppy smoke-tinged kisses now trailing his neck and under his chin. He hasn't been this content in a long time and even if he's just fucked a rockstar and might literally have just gotten into something he can't control, Steve is beyond caring at the moment. He's in heaven right now and he's intending to make it last, even if that means he's not leaving his hotel room for the next couple of days.

He doesn't sweat it. Eddie's got the money. Work (and Dustin) will be fine without him for a while.