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Eddie has been on his knees before.
Eddie spent every Sunday of his childhood for years praying to a God that he did not understand. He knows the ache of prayer, the feeling of wood against his knees, he knows what it is to worship under watching eyes.
Now, at thirty-four, he’s on his knees again. This time, on the hardwood floor of his own living room. The timber here is more forgiving than the pews of his youth.
The watching eyes this time are Buck, heavy-lidded and leaning back, looking down at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever truly known worship till now. He doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at with such adoration as he is now.
Buck’s long, sacred fingers slide through his hair. He doesn’t even guide him down, doesn’t push him forward or even tug at the strands. He just holds it there, a grounding touch if he’s ever known one.
It feels like uniform-clad thigh against thigh in the back of the truck. It feels like hands pressed to a bullet wound in his shoulder, anchoring him to the Earth. It feels like a hand at the crook of his neck, right where it meets his shoulder.
Eddie has given head before. He’s had thighs over his shoulders, fingers tugging at his hair while his mouth completes the task at hand. He’s gone through the motions of sex, shaky-handed, focused and letting the intimacy of it wash over him.
He thinks maybe with the women he’s been with, he just liked the closeness. He liked making someone feel good. He liked to be touched.
Buck is touching him now. It’s different. If he were better with words, he’d be able to describe it, but instead, all he can do is melt into it.
His fingers find the button of Buck’s jeans, finally popping it open. He catches the zipper between two fingers and drags it down slowly, deliberately, reverently. Buck’s already hard. He’s pretty sure Buck has been hard since the moment Eddie climbed into his lap, long before he slid back out of it and onto his knees.
He’s never done this before. They’ve never been here before. He should be terrified. He thinks, if it were anyone else, it would be. But it’s just Buck. Even now, while he’s on his knees, they’re still just Buck and Eddie.
Buck lifts his hips a little, giving Eddie a helping hand to tug his jeans down. Eddie smiles up at him, using his hands to tuck fingers underneath his waistband, tugging his jeans and underwear down together until they’re about mid-thigh.
Buck’s dick is visible now. Right there. In front of him.
Eddie’s brain short-circuits. “Holy fuck.” He manages to say, his hand moving from it’s previous task to wrap around the base of him. It’s not like he’s never seen a dick before, he’s got one currently aching and leaking between his own thighs, but this isn’t any dick.
It’s Buck’s dick. Hard, long and fucking flushed such a pretty shade of pink at the tip. If Eddie could peel his eyes away, he could say confidently it’s the same colour as the blotches of pink that surround Buck’s brow, but even just from memory, he’d say it’s a pretty close match.
“Jesus- ha—“ Buck hisses at the contact, thighs tensing as he forces his hips still. “You like it, huh?”
Eddie nods, a little dumb, a little awed. He leans forward, slotting himself easily between Buck’s legs like he belongs there. He does, maybe. He’d stay here forever if he could.
If this is the temptation the Lord’s Prayer warns against, he understands now why one would need to be led away from it, because the desire thrumming through his veins is intoxicating, overwhelming, all-consuming.
“Cat got your tongue, Eds?” He realises he hasn’t spoken in minutes as Buck asks that. His fingers shift in Eddie’s hair, sliding through them instead, carding through the softness of it.
“Sorry.” He forces out, shaking his head a little, trying to bring himself back down to Earth. “Just. Fuck.”
Buck shakes his head a little, dismissive. “No, it’s okay. You okay? Still wanna—?” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just flickers from Eddie’s face down to the dick that’s still held firmly in Eddie’s hand.
It twitches underneath both of their gazes when Eddie looks back toward it.
He nods again.
“Please.” He’s never begged before, but it slips so easily off his tongue. “Can I?” He’s not sure why he’s asking permission — he’d already been granted it when he’d been perched in Buck’s lap, Buck’s mouth leaving biting marks down the column of his throat.
Buck looks at him with awe, fondness, and adoration. It’s hard to pick one word for it. No one has ever looked at him the way Buck does. Or if they did, he never noticed, not like this.
He feels exposed under Buck’s eyes, but not uncomfortably, just undeniably seen.
“Yeah. It’s okay if you can’t take it all, just— just start slow, okay? Feel it out. It’s harder than it looks.” Buck says gently, still sliding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. He’s so calm for someone whose dick is so, so fucking hard right now.
Of course, Buck is talking him through it. He’s so sweet to him. So fucking sweet.
“Yeah.” He’s not sure he’s capable of full sentences right now. But he agrees verbally, for Buck’s sake. He leans forward then, angling the dick a little better so he can slide the tip of his tongue through the slit.
The taste is a little salty, maybe a little bitter, but it’s nothing close to unpleasant. If anything, Eddie just laps at it a few more times, collecting everything that’s collected on the head.
He wonders if Buck always gets this wet or if Eddie is special. He wants to ask, but he’s too busy closing his head around the tip and sucking.
Above him, Buck gasps, fingers tightening in his hair as his stomach flexes, hips unmoving despite how much it looks like he wants to thrust up into the wet, welcoming heat of Eddie’s mouth.
“You look so pretty like this,” Buck whispers, as if he talks too loudly, someone might hear. No one is home. He wouldn’t be on his living room floor if they weren’t. But the way Buck whispers to him feels so private, so safe, so easy.
His cheeks flush with warmth, turning his already pink cheeks a darker shade, he’s sure.
“You like dick in your mouth, baby?” The pet name washes over Eddie, warmth spreading through every inch of him. He flicks his tongue, just under the head and nods a little. As much as he can with the thick, wet head of Buck’s cock on his tongue. Saliva is pooling in his mouth, and he uses that to glide himself a few inches down, slowly and steadily, experiencing the feeling in slow motion.
The weight of it, the taste of it, the warmth of it. Eddie’s jaw spreads, accommodating the size of him, making space for him in Eddie’s mouth like he was made to be there.
“You look like you were made to suck dick. Swear to God.” Buck mumbles, the hand in his hair is just holding him now. Eddie knows if he looked up, he’d just see Buck’s blown-out pupils staring down at him. He can feel them, even if he can’t see them. His gaze burns, but Eddie welcomes the heat of it.
Buck swears to God Eddie was made for this, and Eddie thinks maybe he’s not far off with that. Though he’s not sure God is listening. He doesn’t think God is here. He doesn’t know if God is anywhere.
He knows if missing out on heaven means he gets to know what Buck’s cock feels like against the wet warmth of his tongue, maybe it’s not that worth it.
Eddie slides down a little more, taking more of Buck inside of him, but then he feels the head of Buck’s dick passing through the tightness of the opening of his throat and— fuck. There’s still so much of him left. He pulls off then, lungs burning as he finally gives them the air they’d been begging for. He pants, just a little. The hand not wrapped around the base of him shifts to hook around Buck’s leg, gripping the top of his thigh, holding on.
“You’re fucking big.” He exhales, laughing a little breathlessly. He looks up at him then and regrets it instantly, because Buck grins down at him, a little smug.
“Yeah. You like that? Like a big cock in your mouth?” He should’ve known Buck would be like this. He runs his mouth in the field, in the privacy of their hangouts, in every moment he can — he should’ve known he wouldn’t be any different.
“Jesus, Buck.” He huffs, ducking his gaze back down to the dick before him. “Yeah. I like it, alright?” Shame flushes through him. He’s not supposed to like it, let alone admit it out loud. He’s holding the sin in his hands and taking it into his open mouth, begging for it to never leave.
“Hey.” Buck’s voice is softer now, hand moving from his hair (Eddie does not whine at the loss, thank you, he just makes a muffled high-pitched noise as he bites down on his bottom lip) to hold his chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilts his head up, eyes focused intently on his.
“You’re good. You’re so good. I love—“ Eddie’s body tenses, just a little. They’ve only said it once before, on the couch, gasping it into each other's mouths. But this time, Buck is looking at him intently, with such purpose. Eddie feels flayed under his eyes, cut open and witnessed.
“You. I love you so much. You’re so good.” He says it so easily, so gently. Like Eddie has ever done anything to earn it.
Eddie, despite all his disbelief in the concept that he could ever deserve anything good, believes him. How could he not? It’s Buck. It’s his best friend.
No matter what has shifted between them tonight, two or three beers deep, they will always be best friends. He doesn’t doubt that. He’s lived in a world without Evan Buckley for three minutes and seventeen seconds before, he’s not sure he could ever cope with it for another single second.
Eddie doesn’t respond verbally, he doesn’t know if he could. His heart is sitting lodged in his fucking throat right now. He just leans forward, mouth open and ready, breath hot against the tip of Buck’s dick.
He takes it back inside him. He doesn’t hesitate this time. He doesn’t take his time. He lets the saliva in his mouth spread over the thickness of Buck’s dick, feels it spreading over his lips, feels a little sliding out the corner of his mouth as he works over as much as he can fit in his mouth without feeling like he’s going to choke.
Buck is moaning above him, and Eddie is memorizing every single fucking sound. They’re his now. He’s earned them. Most of the praise spilling from Buck’s lips doesn’t register the way Buck’s words usually do. They blur together, soft, sweet and golden, like a warm haze sliding over his brain. He catches fragments: his name, curses, words like pretty, gorgeous, perfect, and so good.
Eddie does, eventually, choke. He pushes down too hard, too much, too fast and his throat clenches around Buck’s cock. He pulls back, coughing a little violently and resting his head against the thigh that he’s not holding, gasping for air.
Buck’s hand is in his hair, soothing him. “Hey, f-fuck, you okay?”
Eddie nods against his thigh, no longer coughing, just letting his throat have a break. He doesn’t take long before he’s lifting his head, glistening eyes looking up at Buck as he presses his tongue against the base of him, just above his fingers and licks to the tip. He holds eye contact as he presses open-mouthed kisses along the side of it, then the head.
Buck looks like he’s holding on by a thread. His thighs are trembling a little. His cheeks are flushed in such a beautiful shade of pink.
Eddie did that to him. Pride fills him.
He pulls away, just a breath of distance between his mouth and Buck’s dick. He wants it. He wants to keep doing what he was doing.
He, selfishly, wants more. “Can you—” He starts, but doesn’t finish. The words falter on his tongue, uncertainty rising like static in his chest. Shame flickers at the edges of his thoughts.
He shakes his head, just barely, a fraction of movement, then leans forward to take Buck back into his mouth.
Or tries to.
Buck’s grip tightens in his hair before he can wrap his lips around the tip, holding him in place.
There’s a sound, a whine, soft and needy, and it takes Eddie a second to realise it came from him.
Holy fuck. What has Buck turned him into? Or has he always been like this? Has this hungry, needy, dirty version of him always been hidden inside?
“Can I what?” Buck asks, voice low, rough, demanding even, despite the tenderness in his tone. Of course, he doesn't let it go. Buck’s always nudged him to talk even when he feels like he can’t, or shouldn’t. He never lets Eddie sit in his shame, in his head.
He gently tilts Eddie’s head back, using the hand still tangled in his hair, until Eddie is looking up at him.
“Come on, Eddie. Ask. Whatever you want, you can have it.” Buck says it like a promise. He means it. And it’s the earnest sincerity in it that nearly undoes him.
Eddie swallows hard.
“Fuck me.” It slips out, not quite what he meant. He stumbles over it, tries again. “I mean—my mouth. Can you—” He forces the words out, dragging them from where they sit in his chest, soaked in want. “Buck, fuck my mouth.”
If Buck’s pupils weren’t blown before, they are now. Just a thin rim of that pretty blue around the edges of them.
“Fuck. Baby, Eddie— are you sure?” Eddie’s already nodding against Buck’s grip before the question is even out.
“You gonna make me beg?” He tries to sound teasing, to pretend like he’s even a little in control right now.
“Next time, maybe.” Buck meets him there in it. Always meets him in the middle.
He’s breathless. Next time. Next time. Next time. A promise.
“But—fuck, okay, just tap my thigh twice with this—” Buck lifts a hand, slightly trembling, and taps a finger against the knuckle of the one Eddie has gripping the top of his thigh. “If it’s too much, alright? Just do that. Don’t move your other hand. I don’t wanna go too deep, don’t wanna hurt you.”
Eddie taps his hand twice on Buck’s thigh. An assurance that he’s heard him, that he understands.
“Tap twice. Got it.” Eddie affirms, moving to wrap his mouth back around him, just the lead sitting on his tongue. He tucks his teeth behind his lips, like he’s seen girls do for him before and squeezes Buck’s thigh. He hopes he gets the message.
Buck, like always, knows exactly what he needs.
Buck sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Okay, gonna move now.”
He holds Eddie’s gaze for a beat longer, like he’s checking, one last chance to back out before Buck buries his dick into Eddie’s mouth with purpose. Eddie just tightens his grip on his thigh again in response and lets his eyes flutter closed.
Then Buck moves.
He doesn’t go fast at first, just a shallow roll of his hips, letting his cock slide against Eddie’s tongue, letting it fill his mouth out. Eddie’s brain feels fuzzy around the edges. He feels like he’s melting into it.
Eddie moans around him, a low, desperate noise that vibrates up the length of Buck. Buck groans above him, loud and unashamed.
The next thrust is deeper. Buck’s hand is firm at the back of Eddie’s head, not forcing him down, just holding him there, grounding him. His hips are doing all of the work. Fucking into Eddie’s mouth like it’s a hole for him to fuck. It is. He is.
Eddie breathes through his nose and relaxes his throat as best he can, letting Buck take him. He feels so good like this, so at ease, relaxed in a way he never has been before. He’s still worked up, still wound tight and needy, but all of that feels like it’s fogged by a pleased haze.
He likes letting Buck use his mouth. He fucking loves it, actually.
His jaw is already starting to ache a little, but that, like all his other feelings, just blends together. It’s nothing compared to the warmth settling low in his belly, the heat curling and coiling as Buck starts to build a rhythm. His hips move with purpose now, small thrusts that slide him in and out of Eddie’s mouth, each one deeper than the last. Controlled. Measured. Worshipful.
He’s worshipping Eddie as he fucks into his mouth and Eddie’s the one on his fucking knees.
He’s taking more of Buck than he thought he could. He’s not sure how his throat is taking it, how it’s relaxing enough to welcome him in, but he fucking welcomes him in. Buck is stuffing his dick into his throat, over and over and over again.
Eddie holds still, lets himself be used, lets Buck fuck his mouth like he asked. It’s overwhelming in the best way. The press of Buck’s cock against the back of his throat, the sound of his ragged breathing above him, the vice grip in his hair. He's never felt more wanted.
Buck curses above him, a choked, desperate sound. He whimpers, Eddie is pretty sure, but it’s hard to hear anything with how fuzzy his brain feels.
“Jesus, Eds. You’re—fuck, your mouth. You feel so good.”
The praise comes so easily from Buck, so earnest. The words settle over him like a warm blanket, covering every inch of him in the feeling. He moans around him, eyes fluttering open, brimmed with tears, as he finds Buck’s gaze looking down at him. Buck is fucking his mouth slower now, but still just as deep, filling out Eddie’s throat so perfectly.
Buck’s expression is something Eddie’s never seen quite like this before. Ruined, reverent. Like Eddie is something holy.
“Eds,” Buck breathes, “you’ve got no idea. Fuck. You’re—” He cuts himself off with a groan, the kind that sounds like it’s being dragged from somewhere deep in his chest. “You’re everything.”
Eddie wants to say something back. Wants to tell Buck he feels it too, feels all of it. But his mouth is too full and his throat too raw and all he can do is moan again, letting it vibrate up the length of Buck’s cock.
That does it.
Buck's hips stutter forward, shallow, careful, and he swears under his breath.
“Fuck, baby. I’m close.” Buck whines out, his eyes squeezing closed as Eddie hollows his cheek and sucks.
“Want me to cum on-on your face? Paint your pretty face with my cum?” He asks and that’s— another day, Eddie needs that, he needs it more than he needs air. He wants to be covered, painted in Buck’s load and claimed by him.
But he doesn’t want that right now.
He shakes his head, just once, as much as he can. Buck’s eyes flutter open, his head tilting in that stupidly adorable, puppy-like way.
“No?” He asks, knowing Eddie can’t fucking answer. There’s a smugness to his grin, even as he desperately and shallowly fucks into Eddie’s mouth. “You want it in your mouth? You want me to cum in your mouth?”
Eddie taps his hand on Buck’s thigh, just once. Confirmation. His own orgasm is fucking on the edge right now with how Buck is talking to him. There’s a sickly sweet condescending edge to it. Asking the question like he doesn’t know the answer.
“Yeah, baby. You can have it. I want to- fuck—“ He curses, his rhythm shifting to something a little less consistent, fucking deeper and faster into Eddie. “I want to give it to you.”
Eddie moans around his dick again, harder this time, his eyes falling closed. Buck is fucking harder, harder, harder into his throat and—
And then Eddie’s whole body tenses. His stomach tightens. He’s not even fucking touching himself, but his body spasms. He cums in his underwear, spurting over and over again. He cried out around Buck’s dick, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets it wash through him, unable to do anything but let it force it’s way through him. He swears he sees little white dots in his vision when he opens his eyes back up.
Buck feels it. Or sees it. He must. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “You just— did you just cum?”
Eddie can’t answer. Not really. Just hums a yes and nods around him, spent and dazed and so fucking full.
“Y-you’re— fuck, Eddie. You’re so good, so perfect. Fucking cumming from me fucking— God.” Buck is struggling to string together a sentence, panting and trembling underneath him.
He thrusts up, once, twice and then on the third, he stills. He’s buried deep in his mouth, and then he’s pulsing, spilling on the back of Eddie’s tongue and against the back of his throat. It slides down easily enough, but then it just keeps fucking coming.
Buck, for a beat, is silent above him as he cums, and cums, and cums. Eddie eventually has to pull back as he realises he can’t swallow it all. Just a little. He’s still got the head in his mouth, cum dripping fucking obscenly out of the corners of his mouth as he tries to swallow more.
Buck cums down Eddie’s throat, and it’s one of the best moments of his fucking life. A part of Buck is inside of him now. That turns him on more than it should. He took a piece of Buck (not really taking if it’s gifted to you, but whatever), swallowed it and now it’s his? Swallowing Buck’s cum down his throat feels like taking communion.
This is my body, this is my blood, a voice in Eddie's brain says, and Eddie swallows again, still tasting Buck on his tongue.
The cock slips out of his mouth and Eddie’s eyes are open again, blinking slowly as he looks up at him. Buck is catching his breath, shaking with the aftershocks of it. The hand on the back of Eddie’s head moves to cup the side of his face, holding him like he’s something delicate, something fragile.
Buck leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. His hand cradles Eddie’s face. His thumb swipes under his eye, catching a couple of tears that slipped out. Not from pain. Just from everything. Just from being so overwhelmed.
He hadn’t even realised he was crying.
“You good?” He asks, eyes searching his face, checking him over. He’s sure he looks wrecked. Lips swollen and covered in cum and spit.
“Yeah.” Eddie breathes out, just looking up at him with an unbelievable amount of love and fondness in his gaze.
He’s expecting Buck to help him up, and it looks like he’s about to move to do so, but then he kisses him.
There’s no way Buck can’t taste himself in Eddie’s mouth, and judging by the way he moans into the kiss, he’s not upset about it. It’s disgusting. It’s obscene. It’s so fucking hot.
He pulls back after a bit, leaning their foreheads together. They just breathe there together for a moment.
Eddie’s brain is gone. Shut off completely, maybe, but in the best way. Buck helps him up and back into his lap. His head tucks itself into the crook of Buck’s neck.
His body is aching a little. His knees, his jaw, his thighs, but he doesn’t care. He melts against him.
Buck’s arms wrap around him as he settles in against him.
Eddie lets himself be held. He melts into the heat of Buck’s body, breathing in the sweat and sex and something that’s just Buck. His hand finds the hem of Buck’s shirt, fingertips slipping underneath to rest on warm skin. He doesn’t want more. Just wants to feel him. To anchor himself to the body that’s held him together so many times, in so many different ways.
“I love you,” Buck murmurs, so softly that if he weren’t so close, he would’ve missed it. But Eddie hears it. He feels it, in the press of Buck’s lips against his temple, in the hand stroking featherlight over his spine.
Eddie lets out a shaky breath. It’s too much and not enough. He wants to crawl inside the moment and live there. He wants to crawl inside Buck so that they can just be one, completely.
“Love you,” he whispers back, voice raw and low, pressed against Buck’s collarbone.
Eddie has spent so long wanting without taking. Holding desire like a secret, buried deep. But now — now, he’s taken it. Gripped what he wanted with both hands and pulled it into himself. Claimed it.
This. He’s claimed this. Them. Buck. And nothing is falling apart. No God striking him down. No one is there to tear it from his grasp. The shame that used to creep in like a shadow doesn’t come this time.
He feels… at peace. Comfortable. Safe. Sacred.
And just as he exhales, Buck does too — always in sync, like they’re breathing from the same lungs, living in the same body.