Work Text:
steve really, really shouldn’t be here right now.
he told nancy he’d be home by five, and the time on his watch reads five-oh-six. but instead of walking in the threshold of the home he shares with his wife, steve is parking his car out in front of the repair shop on the other side of town. the sorry, we’re closed sign hangs on the door, but steve can hear music still coming from inside, a hard guitar riff and slamming drums that steve knows only one person working at munson’s garage likes to listen to.
coincidentally, it’s also the same person steve is here to see.
eddie munson, nephew of the garage’s namesake, and resident thorn in steve’s side.
the door to the shop is still open when steve grabs the handle and pulls. it doesn’t surprise him, seeing as steve had called eddie before he left work to let him know that he’d be stopping by.
“hello?” steve calls, dawdling in the small lobby. the place smells like cigarette smoke and motor oil, the music getting louder and louder as steve makes his way through the lobby and out the door he knows leads to the actual garage. “eds, where the hell are you?”
he finds eddie under the hood of a cherry red chevy, sleeves of his coveralls rolled up to his elbows, hair piled up messily atop his head, and a cigarette dangling between his lips. the music blares so loud that eddie doesn’t hear him come in, only coming out from under the hood when steve gets close enough for him to see him in his peripherals.
“well if it isn’t stevie harrington after all,” eddie snickers as he slinks around the chevy, flicking the button on the radio to turn the music off before he crosses his arms over his chest and leans his hip against the chevy’s front bumper. steve swallows, eyes darting around the garage in a pointed effort not to stare at eddie’s muscled, tattooed forearms. “wasn’t sure if you were really gonna stop by or not.”
“why wouldn’t i?” steve quips, finally meeting eddie’s gaze. he swallows hard when he sees the way eddie’s staring at him: eyes dark, mouth set in a haughty, half-cocked line, stray curls falling over his forehead. he has oil smeared over his cheek, on his jaw and neck, like he’d gone to wipe away sweat and forgot his hands were covered in it. heat rushes to steve’s cheeks, and while he hopes eddie can’t see the color in them, the way eddie’s lips pull into a satisfied grin lets steve know that he absolutely can.
“dunno,” eddie shrugs. “thought maybe you’d change your mind and decide to go home to the wifey.”
something settles ugly in steve’s chest at the mention of nancy coming from eddie’s mouth. “thought we agreed we wouldn’t talk about her,” steve huffs.
“we did, didn’t we?” eddie’s tone is patronizing, and steve hates the way it makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “my bad, princess. must’ve had a long day if you wanted to come see me, hmm?”
instantly, steve deflates. he did have a shitty day at work—his boss was up his ass all day, harping on him about some fucking deadline that was still an entire week away, and then on top of that, he got reamed out by a client for some bullshit that wasn’t even his fault and just— god, he just needs to get out of his fucking head for a minute, and the best way he knows how to do that is with eddie.
“yeah,” steve says. he shifts from foot to foot, hands stuffed awkwardly into the pockets of his slacks.
“come here,” eddie beckons, uncrossing on of his arms to reach for steve, who comes almost too easily. eddie grabs steve’s wrist and pulls him close, though he’s careful not to smear any of the oil staining his hands, arms, and his coveralls onto steve’s pristine white shirt. “you wanna be mine for a little while, stevie?”
a lump forms in the back of steve’s throat. he goes through this every single time, the need and the guilt warring together inside of him. he hates that he does this, hates that he knows nancy is waiting for him at home, with dinner on the table, eyes flicking to the clock on the dining room wall over and over and over, wondering where steve is.
he loves her, he wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t, but there are things he needs, things he craves, that he knows she can’t give to him, not like eddie can.
“yes,” steve breathes, his mind already slipping into that softness he gets when he finally lets himself accept what eddie’s offering. the guilt and self-loathing will come later when he’s back home in bed next to nancy, remembering the way he gave himself up so easily, with the traces of eddie still inside of him.
for now, though, steve just wants to let eddie take him.
“you know where to go then, baby doll,” eddie coos, gently pushing steve backwards, towards the door that leads out of the garage and back into the small lobby, where the office is.
anticipation makes steve giddy as he all but runs to the back into the lobby, heading straight for the door on the back wall that he knows leads into the small, cramped office space that eddie’s uncle wayne uses for admin work. eddie’s hot on his heels, as eager for it as steve is.
the office is small, cluttered with filing cabinets and loose paperwork, with a desk in the middle of the room. that’s what steve goes for, pushing a few manila folders to the side to make space before he hops up and sits atop it. the door closes behind eddie and he turns the lock. eddie’s eyes snap to steve’s and there’s a moment of tense silence before eddie’s surging forward, gripping the hem of steve’s shirt and yanking it upwards.
steve moans, bringing his arms up to help eddie get his shirt off over his head. the shirt gets tossed into a corner, on top of a filing cabinet, eddie’s hands going straight to steve’s belt, unbuckling it with deft fingers, popping the button on steve’s slacks.
“f-fuck,” steve gasps when eddie yanks his pants down, taking his underwear with them. “wait, slow down—”
“slow down?” eddie snorts, tossing steve’s slacks and briefs in the same direction he tossed his shirt. he steps back to give himself just enough space to unzip the front of his coveralls. he’s wearing a faded black metallica shirt underneath, and a pair of white and blue checkered boxers. “you know we don’t have time for slow, baby.”
the coveralls fall to the floor when eddie pushes them from his shoulders. he steps out of them and presses himself back between steve’s legs, hands gripping steve’s thighs to spread him.
steve moans, head tipping back as eddie reaches down to grab his cock. steve’s only half hard, but he fattens up quick with every tight stroke of eddie’s fingers. eddie’s thumb swipes firm over the tip, already wet; steve’s thighs quiver and he falls backward, laying flat atop the desk.
“so easy for me,” eddie murmurs. he lets go of steve’s cock—fully hard now, red and drooling—and steve whimpers at the loss of his touch. “you been thinking about me fucking you?”
steve squeezes his eyes shut, nods. it was all he could think about today—as his boss was yelling till he was red in the face, steve was in his own head thinking about eddie’s hands, his mouth, his cock. “all day,” steve confesses.
“shame on me for keeping you waiting, then,” eddie snickers. his fingers dig into the meat of steve’s inner thighs. he pushes them upwards, nearly to steve’s chest. steve grunts, the stretch burning in his muscles, but the discomfort is worth it when eddie ducks down and licks a long, hotstripe from steve’s tailbone up to his balls.
steve whimpers, hands curling into fists. he wants to reach down and bury them into eddie’s hair so bad, but eddie hasn’t told him it’s okay yet, and he won’t risk making eddie stop by being impatient.
eddie’s tongue prods at steve’s hole, wet and insistent. steve loves this, loves when eddie eats him out; it makes him feel exposed and obscene, devoured in the best way possible. nobody had ever even touched steve’s hole before eddie, but in the six months that they’ve been carrying on this affair, eddie’s turned steve into a slut for it.
sharp, high pitched little sounds burst from between steve’s lips, his hips rolling down into the hungry swipe of eddie’s tongue. eddie lets out a low, growling moan, fingers digging harder into steve’s thighs, teeth nipping at his hole.
“taste so good, baby girl,” eddie murmurs. one of his fingers traces steve’s hole, just toying with it, not yet ready to be pushed inside. steve trembles and gives a long, mewling whine. “fucking love your sweet little cunt.”
heat floods steve’s entire body, turning him a flushed, rose-petal red from his cheeks down to his chest. “‘s’not—” steve hiccups, breath catching on a needy mewl as eddie finally sinks that teasing finger inside. “don’t call it that.”
“why not, baby?” eddie asks. his voice is sugar sweet, like the cotton candy at the state fair he takes nancy to every year, the kind that sticks to steve’s teeth and makes them ache. he fucks his finger out then back in, a slow, dry drag that makes steve’s skin break out in chills. “a hole this pretty, made to be fucked? seems like a cunt to me.”
steve shivers, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip. “eddie, please,” he begs, though he’s not quite sure exactly what he’s begging for. more teasing? more mean words? more of everything?
“hush,” eddie quiets him, slipping his finger out before he turns his back to steve, plucking his coveralls up from the floor and rummaging through the pockets. he makes a triumphant noise as he pulls a small bottle of lube out, dropping his coveralls as he whirls around to steve again, waggling the bottle of lube between his fingers.
“why was that in your pocket?” steve asks, spreading his thighs to make room for eddie as he settles between them.
“you called, sweetheart, remember?” eddie says, popping the cap of the lube and upending the bottle, squeezing out just enough to slick his fingers. “told me you were coming around. you sounded so needy that i knew you were gonna be gagging for my cock, so i figured i should be nice and prepared.”
maybe he should protest that, maybe argue that he’s not gagging for it, but the fact of the matter is that eddie’s right. he’s right every single time they do this, like he knows what steve needs better than steve even knows it himself.
when steve doesn’t reply, eddie just laughs. “can’t even deny it, can you?”
steve shakes his head, and he’s rewarded for his honesty by a slick finger prodding at his hole, spreading the lube there before slipping inside. eddie curls the finger immediately, searching out steve’s prostate, humming in the cocky, self-assured way he does when he finds it and steve’s back arches off the desk, choking out a desperate moan.
one finger becomes two before steve’s really ready for it, but there’s something about the burn of the stretch that makes steve’s cock drool, a puddle already pooling in his navel. eddie reaches up to stroke him, dragging his fingers through the mess on steve’s belly.
“so wet for me,” eddie muses, rubbing the tips of his fingers harder against steve’s sweet spot, making a satisfied noise as more precome drips from the head of steve’s needy cock.
every inch of steve’s body feels like a live wire, tingling at every point eddie touches him—eddie’s hand on his inner thigh, lips pressed to the curve of his knee, pushing three fingers into steve’s hole. there’s lube dripping onto the desk, over eddie’s wrist, making obscene sounds every time eddie fucks his fingers inside.
“eddie,” steve whines. it’s taking everything he has to stay still, to be good, when all he wants to do is roll his hips down into the steady thrusts of eddie’s hand, to take his pleasure like the greedy slut eddie turns him into. “please.”
“please what, baby?” eddie pulls his fingers out, rubbing the pads of them over steve’s hole. steve clenches, a sob breaking past his lips, desperate nearly to the point of tears from how ruthlessly eddie plays with him. “
“fuck me,” steve begs, soft and miserable.
“what was that?” eddie teases. steve could really cry , he’s so desperate.
“fuck me!” steve wails, smacking his hand down onto the desk. “i need it, eddie, please.”
“that’s my girl,” eddie breathes, the sweetness of his words making steve feel dizzy. he pulls back just enough to free his cock, he reaches for the lube again and slicks himself from base to tip. his cock is thick and hard and red; it makes steve’s mouth water. eddie taps steve’s thigh with his free hand. “legs up for me, baby. let me see that pretty cunt.”
steve’s legs shake as he lifts them, hands in the crooks of his knees. eddie hums, satisfied, and smacks the head of his cock over steve’s hole. steve jerks with every touch, hole clenching like it’s trying desperately to take eddie inside. “so needy,” eddie coos, notching the head of his cock up to where steve’s open and ready for him, pushing inside with a pleased grunt.
no matter how many times they’ve done this in the past, no matter how many fingers eddie fucks him with before stuffing him with his cock, steve never quite gets used to the feeling of absolute fullness he gets from having eddie inside of him. it’s like finally getting to scratch an itch he can’t reach, finally getting to release the stress that knots up his shoulders and aches in his spine.
“you feel so fucking good, stevie,” eddie groans. one hand braces on the desk next to steve’s head, the other splayed over steve’s belly, like eddie’s trying to feel himself fucking into steve’s body. steve mewls, rolling his hips down into the thrust of eddie’s hips, loving the rough way he’s shunted up against the desk every time eddie fucks inside.
“needed this,” steve slurs, struggling to stay coherent, his thoughts blurring a bit at the edges, taken over by eddie and full and need and feels so good.
“does nancy know, hmm?” eddie seethes, fisting his hand in steve’s hair, yanking steve’s head back so he can run his teeth over steve’s throat. “does she know what a nasty little fuck slut you are? does she know that her perfect husband loves taking it up the ass? does she know how fucking good you are at it?”
nancy is soft and sweet and pretty, all big brown eyes and kind smiles. she’s nice —she would never want to treat steve like this, and steve would never ask her to, but that doesn’t change the fact that he still needs it. like he needs water or air or food, steve needs eddie’s hand in his hair, lips at his ear, calling him nasty things because he loves it.
but hearing eddie say it out loud, say her name, it makes something ugly curl in steve’s chest.
“stop it,” steve whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. “stop—being mean.”
eddie laughs, a hard, almost humorless sound. “you like me mean,” he says, nipping at the underside of steve’s jaw. the hand in steve’s hair slides down his neck, eddie’s palm pressing against steve’s adam’s apple, fingers digging into his pulse points. he squeezes, cutting off steve’s airflow, and steve’s eyes fly open as he chokes on a gasp. “that’s it,” eddie coos, “you look at me while i’m fucking you.”
the slap of eddie’s hips against steve’s ass is obscene in the tiny space of the office. the desk squeaks with every thrust, the bolts holding it together being tested with each rough jerk of their bodies against it. steve’s brows furrow, mouth hanging open, noises he can’t control spilling out of him like rapids, like rushing water sweeping steve’s feet out from under him, yanking him under the surface.
eddie’s hand drags from steve’s throat to his chest as eddie leans back, rolling his hips a few more times before he pulls out entirely. his cock bobs, slick and shiny with lube. he digs his hands into steve’s ass, spreading him open, watching steve’s hole clench around nothing, drinking in the desperate way steve whines and begs to have eddie back inside him.
instead, eddie’s hands slide from steve’s ass to his thighs, pushing his legs up to his chest. the stretch is just on the right side of too much, the ache in steve’s muscles making him whimper. eddie’s eyes are still locked on where steve’s needy and fucked open—his tongue runs over his bottom lip, and in the next moment, eddie is ducking down, eyes locked on steve’s as he spits on steve’s hole.
“oh fuck,” steve mewls, his entire body quivering as he feels eddie’s spit start to drip inside of him. eddie chases it with the head of his cock, pushing back inside.
“fucking slut,” eddie hisses, blanketing steve’s body with his. steve’s cock rubs against eddie’s belly with each thrust, his balls drawing up tight as his orgasm starts to build, a tight coil in his groin. “you fucking love this, don’t you? letting me use you, gonna let me come in you, too, aren’t you? gonna go home to your little wife and fuck her with my cum still dripping out of your asshole?”
“no, no,” steve whimpers, hiccuping through a moan. eddie’s being especially mean, meaner than he usually is—steve knows all he’d have to do to stop it is say that one little word, three letters, one syllable, and eddie would pull out, kiss him and soothe him better, murmuring sweet nothings instead of the degrading vitriol currently spilling from his lips.
but the thing is—the thing that makes the guilt so much worse when steve lays in bed at night, with nancy curled up next to him—is that he fucking loves it when eddie talks to him like this, degrades him like he’s worthless, like he’s nothing but a hole for eddie to fuck, getting off on being used like a whore. with every word eddie speaks, steve hurdles faster and faster towards his climax.
“good girls don’t lie,” eddie’s so close that his lips brush steve’s ear, breath warm on steve’s skin. “and you’re my good girl, right stevie? my good little slut?”
steve sobs, eyes stinging with tears. he hates this, he loves this, he hates that he loves this. he nods, spreading his legs to get eddie even closer, even deeper inside of him. he’s so close, so fucking close.
eddie rears back, and before steve can process what’s about to happen, eddie’s palm cracks over his cheek. steve’s head snaps to the side, a shocked cry bursting from his parted lips. the tears in his eyes spill over in hot rivulets down his cheeks.
“you fucking say it, stevie,” eddie grabs steve’s face, nails digging into his red, stinging cheek. “say ‘i’m your fucking slut, eddie’.”
steve cries harder, the endorphins from the pain and the pleasure warring in his body. his cock is harder than it’s been in his entire fucking life, his orgasm so close he can taste it.
“‘m your fucking slut, eddie,” steve echoes, and he’s rewarded with eddie’s dreamy smile and eddie’s free hand wrapping around steve’s drooling, needy cock. steve’s back arches off the desk, choking on a gasp as eddie strokes him tightly once, twice, then clamps his fingers like a vice around the base of steve’s cock to cut off steve’s orgasm just as it starts to swell.
the hand on steve’s face squeezes at the hinge of his jaw, forcing his mouth open. eddie stares down at him, eyes dark. steve shivers with anticipation, wondering what the fuck eddie’s going to do next—he craves it, whatever it is.
eddie doesn’t leave steve wondering for long. he grips steve’s jaw to the point of pain, leans down into steve’s face, and keeps their eyes locked together as he fucking spits in steve’s mouth.
the sound steve makes is fucking feral, desperate and crazy. his orgasm is right fucking there, if eddie would just move his goddamn hand—
“swallow it,” eddie growls, teeth bared. he fucks steve faster, harder, chasing his own climax now, content that he’s played with steve enough. “swallow it, and i’ll let you come.”
he drops his hand from steve’s jaw, settling it over his throat so he can feel it when steve closes his mouth and swallows.
“that’s my fucking girl,” eddie speaks the words like they’re gospel, like he’s god and steve is his righteous apostle. he strokes steve’s cock tight and fast, thumbing over the tip, and steve’s fucking gone.
he sobs as he comes, tears dripping into his hairline as he stripes his belly with his release. eddie watches him like he’s hypnotized, unable to take his eyes off steve’s cock as it jumps with every pulse of his orgasm. steve’s lips tingle as he comes down from it, sharp pulses of oversensitivity as eddie uses steve’s body to make himself come.
steve stares down at himself, at the mess he’s made on his belly, and he gasps—along with the pearlescent streaks of his release, steve’s covered in dark smears of oil and grease. they’re on his hips, his belly, his thighs—traces of where eddie’s hands have been on him, inside him.
he’s filthy. eddie’s made him filthy.
“you’re mine,” eddie’s hand splays over steve’s belly, over his cum and the streaks of oil and grease. steve gets it then, understands why—eddie can’t leave hickies, can’t leave any physical traces on steve’s skin, but he can mark him like this. “she might wear your ring, but you belong to me.”
steve wants to say it back, wants to shout it as loud as he can—yours, i’m yours, but he doesn’t, he can’t.
instead, he cups eddie’s face in his hands and draws eddie down for a kiss. as they part, against eddie’s lips steve murmurs, “come inside me, eddie, please.”
he can’t give eddie much else, but he can give him this.
eddie makes a sound in the back of his throat, strained and breathy like he’s been punched, and then he’s coming, nails digging into steve’s skin as he fills him with his release, hot and wet and perfect. steve moans with every pulse he can feel inside of him, wrapping his legs around eddie to keep him close, to make sure he takes every last drop of eddie’s cum.
“stevie,” eddie sighs, pressing another sweet kiss to steve’s lips. steve parts them easily, letting eddie slip his tongue inside.
too soon, eddie pulls back from the kiss. he noses along steve’s jaw, leaving a kiss behind steve’s ear before he leans back, taking himself in hand as he pulls out of steve’s body. he tucks himself back into his boxers before reaching for a box of tissues sitting on top of one of the filing cabinets, plucking a few out and handing them over to steve.
“thanks,” steve says, wincing as he sits up. he’s sore already; the thought that he’s going to be feeling eddie for the next couple of days makes his heart beat wildly in his chest.
they redress, eddie back into his coveralls and steve into his slacks and white shirt. there’s a smear of black on the bottom of it where eddie hand grabbed it to yank it over steve’s head, but it’s hidden easily enough when steve tucks it into his waistband. he’s already thinking of what excuse he can tell nancy when she inevitably sees the stain while she does his laundry.
steve follows eddie out of the office, loitering awkwardly in the lobby before eddie scoffs and pulls him into another kiss.
“drive home safe,” eddie says. “wouldn’t want you to get into an accident and have to come see me again.”
steve gives a huffy laugh. “yeah, that’d be real terrible.”
eddie smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “i’ll see you around, stevie.”
steve’s not really sure what else to say, so be just echoes eddie’s sentiment. “see you,” he murmurs. eddie heads back towards the garage and steve makes his way to the front door. eddie doesn’t look back, so neither does steve.
nancy’s waiting for steve when he gets home. he kisses her on the cheek and he lies about where he’s been when she asks why he’s so late. she’s upset, he can tell, and he promises himself that he’ll make it up to her somehow. he lies and tells himself that this is the last time he’s going to do this to her, that he’ll be faithful from now on, that he’ll be the husband that she deserves.
steve washes the traces of eddie from his body in the shower, and pretends it doesn’t hurt him to clean eddie away.
it’s for the best, he tells himself.
he lies, he lies, he lies.