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“God, Steve, you’re such a mom,” Robin whines, teaming a show of dropping her solo cup on the coaster Steve slid her way.
“Am not! I just… whatever, coasters are normal. You’re just raised by wolves,” Steve grumbles, flushing a cute pink.
Eddie smiles fondly at his prissy boyfriend. Coasters are not a normal occurrence in his household, that’s for sure.
“The kids literally call you two Mom and Dad,” Nancy says, gesturing toward them and leveling Steve with a glance.
“Why do I have to be Mom, though?” Steve groans, throwing up his hands.
Nancy laughs, “are you really surprised, Steve?”
“Yeah, baby,” Eddie joins in, “you’re a milf, accept it.” He smirks at Steve’s flushed cheeks, ducking out of the way when Nancy tries to swat him with her pillow.
“We can all see that you’re the Mama Bear, sweetie,” Nancy says gently, but Eddie can hear the laughter behind her tone.
“Yeah right. Are we just going to forget that Steve literally referred to himself as Daddy once?” Robin asks teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows at Steve.
He flushes bright red, mumbling something about a personalized license plate and adrenaline.
“Oh really,” Eddie gushes, intrigued. He leans forward, propping his forearms on his splayed legs, not even looking at Steve. He can feel the restless energy coming off the other man in waves, and it makes the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. His boy is electric.
Before Nancy can open her mouth to continue the story, though, Steve interrupts. “Nancy said her first crush was Aladdin because he didn’t have nipples!” he blurts out, his voice coming out slightly more shrill than usual. The girls don’t notice, at least not the way Eddie does—no, they’re too entertained by the conversation at play, Robin teasing Nancy relentlessly while the usually poised brunette squeals and says something about how she liked his floppy hair.
But Eddie, he’s listening to Steve. To his heightened tone, the little sound that caught in the back of his throat when Eddie ‘accidentally’ pressed his knee to Steve’s. The way he gets more and more talkative throughout the night, tossing out vulgar jokes and innuendos like it’s his job.
Eddie, for his part, just lets Steve rile himself up. He focuses his gaze on the girls, only sparing Steve momentary glances and offhand looks. He barely laughs at his jokes, even the ones that force him to hide his smile behind his hair.
As soon as they escape the Wheeler house and the cool air of the winter night reaches Steve’s flushed cheeks, his--weak, honestly--composure crumbles.
“Eddie, c’mon, you’ve barely looked at me all night,” Steve whines as they get in Eddie’s van, pawing at Eddie’s arm and running his fingers over the rough denim covering his thigh before Eddie’s even fully seated.
Eddie turns to face Steve for the first time all night, letting the full intensity of his gaze lock on Steve’s. “Oh, are we whining, now, too?” Eddie asks, already slipping somewhere dark and dangerous. His hand on the wheel tightens to the point that he watches his own fingertips turn white, rings digging into his calloused skin.
“‘M not whining, Eddie, Jesus,” Steve huffs breathlessly, visibly trying to reign himself in. His hand stays on Eddie’s thigh, finger running up and down the inner seam. “Just wondering why my boyfriend won’t give me what I need.”
Eddie clenches his jaw and looks straight out of the windshield, knowing Steve’s plan. “Yeah? And what do you need, Stevie?”
“Take a wild fucking guess,” Steve snaps, palming himself through his jeans while his other hand tightens around Eddie.
Eddie thanks God he’s a fast driver, because it only takes about 10 seconds of charged silence for him to pull up next to his trailer and throw the van in park.
“You’ve got quite some attitude, tonight, huh?” Eddie asks darkly, unbuckling his seatbelt and facing his lover.
Steve rolls his eyes, unbuckling his own seat belt and opening his door. He gets out of the car, or, Eddie lets him get out of the car, and his hard-on is as visible as a neon sign in the moonlight.
“Coming?” Steve asks, twirling gracefully and walking up to Eddie’s trailer with a purposeful sway to his hips. His jeans hug his ass like a second skin, and Eddie bites his lip as he stares without shame. It’s his ass to leer at, after all.
Eddie gets out of his van at a leisurely pace, fighting his own throbbing desire, set on making his baby wait even more. He can see Steve squirming out of the corner of his eye, holding one hand in front of his crotch as if it’d do anything to conceal his situation if prying eyes were to appear.
Eddie unlocks the door in silence, pushes past Steve and ignores his frustrated sigh. He hears Steve lock the door behind him, smiling softly at their shared sense of safety even in such charged moments, and makes his way to his room.
Steve follows, a step behind Eddie, his socked feet silent behind the clomp of Eddie’s boots. He always takes off his shoes at the door, a habit leftover from living in what Eddie teasingly calls “high society.”
What he doesn’t quite expect, though, is for Steve to grab him by the wrist as he reaches his own doorway. Eddie’s caught so off-guard that Steve is able to pin him to his bedroom wall, hand still wrapped around Eddie’s wrist. He’d be impressed, but he knows what Steve is capable of, how strong he truly is.
Instead, Eddie leans against the wall as calmly as he can with his boyfriend pressed crotch-to-crotch on top of him. He lets his head tilt down those few small inches to look down on Steve, thankful for the platforms of his boots that exaggerate their barely-there height difference.
“So you think you’re Daddy, now, sweetheart?” Eddie asks faux-seriously.
“What if I am?” Steve counters, even as he bites his lip and squirms under Eddie’s gaze.
Eddie smirks, “takes more than a little leverage to have control, sweetheart.” The pet name does its job, and Steve shivers with desire. His hold on Eddie’s wrist loosens ever so slightly, and Eddie uses his free hand to grab his forearm. “Or did you forget who’s really in charge?” he asks, sliding the hand down to lock around Steve’s forearm.
Then he takes one foot, raises it, and deftly swipes Steve’s leg out from under him.
Steve crumples to the ground with a gasp, down on one knee like a fallen knight, his wrist trapped in Eddie’s own. His head falls back as he drops, exposing his neck with its faint, thin scar and a smattering of hickeys just below his shirt collar.
Eddie turns over Steve’s wrist, playing at inspecting the skin there, letting his hands wander and scratch against the smooth softness. He raises it, stretching Steve’s joints to their limit and listening to the soft keen that builds in the back of Steve’s throat like a tidal wave.
“Look at you, baby,” he croons, fitting one palm against Steve’s and lining up their fingers. Steve’s are just a bit bigger than Eddie’s, but his nails are clean and trimmed and his palm is smooth against Eddie’s own. “So soft, so pretty.”
Steve whines, tries to wiggle his hand against Eddie’s until their fingers interlock, but Eddie pulls his hand back and Steve is grasping at thin air.
“You really have them fooled, don’t you?” Eddie asks. “They all think you’re so tough, huh? Big, bad boy Steve Harrington.”
Steve shakes his head, squeezing his eyes tight. He’s fighting it, that drive to go under, to let Eddie take the reins and use him how they both need. Eddie loves him for it, loves his fire and his attitude and the way he looks so defiant below Eddie.
“Use your words, baby,” Eddie teases, condescending. “Tell me what you want.”
“What I want,” Steve gasps, “is for you to fuck me ‘till I forget how to breathe, Munson, but you don’t seem too fuckin’ interested.” He palms at his clothed cock with his free hand, glaring at Eddie, yet he makes no move to rise from the floor. His right leg is shaking where its foot is planted on the floor, his left knee wobbling against the tile.
“So disrespectful,” Eddie chastises him, shaking his head like he’s correcting a wayward child.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Steve grumbles, biting his lip.
Eddie laughs, amused. He gives Steve one last glance, searing the image of his baby down on one knee into his mind, before kicking his other leg out from underneath him.
Steve goes sprawling, legs giving way, and barely catches himself on one hand, nose inches from the ground. Eddie lets go of his wrist a moment later and Steve wobbles, desperately trying to get his arm under him, and Eddie can tell from his clumsiness that he’s lost some circulation.
“Need help, baby?” Eddie asks in a pitying tone, grabbing at his own crotch and giving it a pacifying squeeze. Steve’s eyes zero in on the lewd movement and Eddie’s skin tingles with power.
Steve shakes his head, settling onto both knees with his feet tucked under him, graceful yet shaking like a baby deer.
Eddie smiles at his boy’s desperation to prove that he’s capable of the simple task of raising himself up onto his own two knees.
Eddie’s smile quickly morphs into a smirk, an idea forming in his smarmy mind. He knows he’s an asshole, has accepted it at this point, so he takes his boot and kicks Steve’s legs even further apart, wanting to make it harder still for Steve to be so goddamn headstrong.
Steve whines at the stretch, his brown eyes fixed on Eddie, just as wide as his parted knees.
“Eddie,” Steve gasps, half-defiant and half-petulant. The whine in his voice suggests an oncoming tantrum, a string of meaningless curse words that morph into threats before dissolving into pleading groans.
Rather than dignifying this with a response, Eddie rolls his eyes and drags his boot back toward his other foot where he stands between Steve’s spread legs, accidentally knocking it against Steve’s crotch. Eddie almost apologizes, but Steve’s responding keen stops him.
Experimentally, Eddie leaves his boot just in front of Steve’s dick, barely touching.
He gets a hitched breath in response, and feels Steve’s hips jerk against his boot.
Steve’s face burns bright red, a complete shift from the cocky little brat that was mouthing off below him just seconds ago.
Hesitantly, Eddie presses down with the toe of his shoe, just enough to be purposeful. Steve slams his eyes shut and whimpers, hips twitching again like he can’t help it, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing Eddie’s ever seen.
He murmurs a low, reverent, “Stevie,” as he presses down a little harder, slides over the length of his cock where he can see its outline through his jeans, base to tip.
Steve whines, low in his chest, and Eddie thinks that he looks good down on the floor. He’s sprawled out and his cheeks are stained pink, eyes shiny behind his long lashes, chest rising with quick little breaths.
Eddie wants to wreck him.
“That’s it, baby, so pretty for me,” Eddie groans, leaning his head back against the wall and looking down at Steve.
Another one of those broken little noises is torn from him as Eddie presses down with the toe of his shoe, just under the head of Steve’s cock, where a dark stain is already turning his preppy blue jeans a dark navy.
“Eds,” Steve gasps out, head thrown back. Eddie wants to fucking ruin the pale skin of his throat. “Eddie, fuck, ‘s good.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows, a little disbelieving. A lot egotistical. “Are you seriously getting off on this?”
Steve makes a wheezing sound. His hips jerk, pressing into the sole of Eddie’s shoe. Eddie’s mouth waters and he adds pressure.
“Fuckfuckfuck, don’t, ah, don’t act like you’re not into this, too.”
Eddie feels his cheeks burn, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he presses down harder and replies, “sure, baby,” in his most disinterested tone. Still, they both know that Steve is right.
“Eddie,” Steve whines. He looks weepy, eyes glistening, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides where he holds himself up on shaking knees. Steve’s proper little socks are still on, and they slide uselessly along Eddie’s tile floor.
Eddie knows that he’s ruining his best jeans, he’s fucking dripping against the crotch of them, but he sees how desperate Steve is and he doesn’t care. He would ruin every piece of clothing he owns to have Steve gasping and whining for him, soft thighs trembling, cock straining against his designer Levis as Eddie presses his disgusting, worn-down boots against him.
“You really like this.” Eddie observes, with wonder in his voice. Steve’s face goes a brighter red.
“God, don’t look at me, it’s embarrassing.” He wriggles his hips helplessly, hands moving to grip at his own things, pressing bruises into his skin alongside the ones Eddie left the night before.
“It’s hot. You look so cute , princess.”
The nickname breaks him. Steve sinks his teeth into his lip, arms finally giving out as he collapses onto his back. Before Eddie can stop to check in, offer a break or yellow out for both their sakes, Steve manages to get enough stability to press another slow grind into the sole of Eddie’s boot, rolling his hips in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth go dry.
“Fuck,” Eddie rasps out, ripping a hand out of his pocket to press against his own cock through the barrier of his jeans. Sparks race down his spine at the pressure. “God, baby, do you — can you come from this? Just this?”
Pink-faced, Steve nods. His hips jerk in wild little movements, Eddie’s boot holding him down like an anvil.
“That’s it, baby, fuck. Want you to come for me, princess.”
Eddie frantically unbuckles his belt, hissing as he finally gets a hand around himself. The front of his briefs are sticky where he’s been steadily dripping since he first saw Steve on one knee, since well before that if he’s being honest. He drops his head back, hand moving over the length of his own cock, slick fingers and cold rings making the slide sting and sending his toes curling in his shoes.
Steve groans again, a quiet sound of desperation, and Eddie just about blows right then and there when he looks down to see how helplessly his boyfriend is squirming. Eddie had stopped moving his foot and Steve writhes against it desperately, trying to get that friction back, making breathy little huffs when he manages to get it.
His jeans are pulled tight across his dick, soaked through and sticky against Eddie’s boot. It shines a bit at the toe where Steve had been rubbing himself against it like a cat in heat, glimmering with precum layered over caked-on dirt. Eddie absentmindedly wonders if Steve would lean over, lick the mess off of the worn leather after he comes, make the whole boot shine. His cock twitches in his hand.
Breath caught in his throat, Eddie moves once more, carefully pressing his boot all the way from the base to the tip of Steve’s clothed cock. His feet are big enough that the sole of his boot stretches longer than Steve’s trapped cock, heavy and imposing against him.
The vision breaks the last of Eddie’s resolve and he lets go, coming in ropes across Steve’s fucked-out face. It drapes across Steve’s cheeks and lips like icing, and Steve sticks out his tongue on instinct to sop it up.
Steve’s whines break off into one deep groan, his hips spasming beneath Eddie’s boot, layers of rubber and denim and cloth and the metal fucking zipper of his jeans doing absolutely nothing to lessen the sensation. Come soaks through them all, a sticky mess, and Steve’s chest heaves beautifully.
“Look at you, babydoll,” Eddie gushes, lifting his boot and watching in awe as Steve’s spent cock visibly twitches through his jeans.
His shoe squeaks when it hits the ground and Steve sobs.
Eddie bends down, squatting low so he’s level with his baby. He reaches out a hand, lifting Steve back to a seated position by the back of his neck. Steve’s lax and loose in his grasp, flopping forward to tuck his head into the sweaty crease of Eddie’s neck.
“Let’s get you out of those clothes,” Eddie suggests, feeling the puddle of cooling cum start to soak through his own jeans where Steve’s crotch presses against his leg.
Steve stays boneless in Eddie’s arms, letting himself be carried to Eddie’s bedroom.
They get there in seemingly no time, and Steve feels himself being lowered onto the bed. Eddie’s arms shake a little with the exertion, and it makes Steve giggle.
“Somethin’ funny, baby?” Eddie asks, wrestling his arms out from under Steve’s limp weight.
Steve smiles reaching out with one floppy arm to grab Eddie’s forearm. He tugs Eddie in, barely any pressure but Eddie bends over him anyway, smiling at Steve’s antics.
“Strong,” Steve says simply, laughing his way through the word. He punctuates it with a wiggle of Eddie’s arm, watches in delight as Eddie’s brow furrows in false agitation.
“Hey,” Eddie protests, flicking Steve’s hand away like it’s an annoying gnat buzzing around him. Steve lets his arm rest on the bed, content to watch Eddie. “I’ll have you know I’m incredibly buff,” Eddie says, striking a goofy pose to showcase his muscles.
Steve bites his lip, laughing, because Eddie is more sinewy strength than bulging muscle. Sure, he has some impressive strength compared to before the Upside Down, but Steve’s proud to say a majority of that is likely from carrying him around.
“Quit your laughing, princess, I’m not the one with cum-pants,” Eddie says, booping Steve on the nose.
Steve quiets down, realizing for the first time how truly uncomfortable his clothing situation has become and wrinkling his nose.
“That’s what I thought,” Eddie gloats.
“‘S your fault,” Steve says grumpily.
Eddie smiles fondly, “you asked for it, Daddy .”