Archive of Our Own

“Have we been here before?” Hen’s voice cuts through the gentle rumble of the fire engine, just as they pull up to the place that Maddie has directed them to.

Buck takes a quick glance out of the window, leaning forward and craning his neck awkwardly to see around Chimney. He feels his knee press into Eddie’s thigh where they are sitting far too close in the engine, fully leaning into his best friend’s space.

A hand lands on his leg, steading him immediately, the thumb rubbing gentle circles into his turnout pants. A quick glance up reveals Eddie’s eyes trained steadily on him, a small smile gracing his best friend’s lips. Buck sends his own tiny grin back before focusing on the bar again.

Indeed, somewhere in the back of his mind, there is some recollection of this place. But he can’t seem to place it.

At least, until Chimney speaks up. Almost triumphantly, snapping his fingers when recognition sets in, his brother-in-law whoops out: “...Tailpipe girl!”

It jiggles his memories, somewhere in the back of his mind, thinking back to the first month that Eddie was working with the 118. He remembers flirty, drunk women, but he also remembers being preoccupied with the man who would later become his best friend in the entire world. Finally, thinking he recognizes the place, just to be sure, he asks: “The honky tonk country bar?”

For some reason, that pulls a snort from Eddie whose thumb is still circling over and slightly digging into his thigh. “That one, yes.”

From the front seat, Bobby finally turns around. With a stern glance, he addresses all of them at once: “I need all of you to focus. Part of the bar is currently on fire, according to the call dispatch took. Some hurt patrons, minor burns. Hen, Chim, you’re on triage. Buck, Eddie, get the fire under control. Everybody understood?”

In the end, the fire is barely worth the mention. Some shot glass party trick went wrong and the alcohol caught on fire, spreading further than it was meant to. Hardly worth the hose. In fact, it was probably worth a fire extinguisher, at the most.

When he voices his thoughts out loud, his best friend sends him a glare. But deep down, Buck knows that the older man is amused by his turn of thoughts.

“Buck,” Eddie admonishes him gently, full-on dad voice on display. A small smile playing on the older man’s lips, nonetheless. “People panic when things catch on fire. That’s why we have an actual job, you know?”

“Excuse me?” a small voice calls from somewhere behind them. Turning around, there is a young woman, standing right by the - now thankfully extinguished - bar, her shirt declaring her an employee.

“How can we help?” Buck asks immediately, sensing her nervous energy.

“I’m the manager today and I just wanted to thank you so much for helping. We would have had to close for the day, if you hadn’t shown up when you did. You saved us a lot of business. So, please feel free to come back anytime after your shift, and all your drinks will be free,” she finally says, a smile crossing her face, though she still looks hesitant.

Suddenly an arm finds its way wrapped around his shoulder, Chimney’s voice ringing in his ears. “Did I just hear free drinks? Ma’am, we would absolutely love to accept that offer.”

Thus, not even five hours later, Buck finds himself back in the honky tonk country bar, nursing a beer.

He’s having a good time - honestly. But they just pulled a 24 hour shift and-

“-I’m just tired, you know?” he complains, leaning further into Hen’s side, almost knocking over her margarita in the process.

“Buck up, buttercup,” she soothes him, a gentle hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder. It would be a sweet gesture, he thinks, but it is slightly diminished by the teasing note to her voice and the smug smile playing on her lips. “You know, you could go home, right?”

“I know,” he almost whines, his head feeling heavy and he contemplates for a second just letting it crash to the surface of the table. Just letting it rest there for a minute. Or an hour. He’s really not picky. “But we haven't all gone out in a really long time and I miss it. I miss all of you guys - I mean, you’re home with Karen and Denny and Mara, and Chimney has Maddie and Jee. And I love hanging out with Eddie and Chris, but-”

“-but we only ever see each other at work, and we barely have any down time to just talk and have a good time together?”

“Mhhhh,” he hums. It could be called wistful, if Buck had any poetic inclination for this moment. Instead, he is pulled out of the moment, when Eddie plops down next to him, a second beer for both of them in his large hands, set down on the table with a quiet click.

“Diaz!” Chimney yells suddenly, apropos of nothing, as if Eddie’s arrival had pulled him out of whatever else he was thinking about. The alcohol coursing through the older man’s system causes him to be louder than he needs to be, in Buck’s professional opinion, with as close as they all are sitting in the booth. “20 bucks says you can’t win that!”

Confused by this turn of events, Buck turns to see what the paramedic is referring to and finds- there, right next to the mechanical bull, there’s a laminated piece of paper simply stating: “ride the bull for 15 seconds, win a prize”.

He tries to picture the other patrons, tries to remember whether anyone has tried the challenge, whether he has seen anyone at all receive a prize. He honestly comes up completely empty. None of the several patrons he passively watched ride that death trap seemed to have stayed on long enough to win any sort of prize.

As he watches the machine, a seemingly drunk college-aged blond woman walks up, swings herself up more or less elegantly and, giggling loudly, tells the operator to start. Within moments, barely even seconds, she is thrown off, her giggles only growing louder as she ends up flayed out in the surrounding padding.

Back when he worked on that ranch, long before firefighting, long before the SEALs, long before Peru even, Buck remembers, he went to see some rodeo shows. A tiny fact he learned back then was that it was impressive to remain on a live bull for 8 seconds.

Even with his expertise in riding things, he isn’t sure he’d survive longer on that machine than the still laughing girl - who by now has another drink pushed into her hands by her equally as drunk friends.

Not quite as gently, he is pulled out of his train of thought by Eddie’s boisterous laugh. “You really want to lose 20 bucks that easily, Chim?”

“There’s no way you can stay on that thing for that long, man,” the paramedic insists, glass already halfway to his mouth again. “15 seconds will feel like an eternity.”

With another snort, Eddie gets up easily from his perch besides Buck. He watches as his best friend leans over the table, closer to Chimney, just to declare over the blaring country music: “Get ready to give me those 20 bucks, man.” Then, seemingly remembering something, he turns back to Buck himself. “I’ll be back in a minute, don’t go anywhere. And look after my beer, will you?”

Before he can even contemplate what is going on, his best friend has already made his way over to the mechanical bull, talking animatedly to the operator. It barely takes another moment before Eddie swings up onto the weird contraption.

The next 20 seconds are probably the longest amount of time Buck has ever lived through.

It starts simply, but he finds himself unable to look away from his best friend. From the way the older man’s thighs squeeze together, muscles moving sinfully as his jeans cling on hopelessly. Immediately, Buck finds pictures in his mind, streaming into his brain and appearing before his eyes. Of burying his teeth in those muscles, of peeling those pants off those long legs, of his head being squeezed by those defined thighs.

He has to swallow around the lump in his throat, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry, like the Nevada Desert.

It does not stop there, either.

Eddie’s left hand is wrapped tight around the coil of rope designed as a handle. His fingers flex experimentally for a moment, the veins popping, standing out from his skin. Images of those hands wrapped around Buck’s throat - around Buck’s cock even - infiltrate his mind. Holding on so tightly makes his best friend’s bicep bulge obscenely, straining the stitches of the sleeves in his t-shirt.

The most beautiful thing about Eddie, though? The absolute joy and exhilaration present on his face. His lips are split in a wide grin, showing off his pearly white teeth. From where Buck is sitting, he is sure, he can see a pretty pink flush spreading all throughout his best friend’s cheeks.

It’s beautiful. There is no other way to describe it, really.

Well, that’s a lie. But Buck isn’t drunk enough yet to justify the use of words such as “ethereal”, even if it would fit perfectly for the way his best friend looks.

And that isn’t even all of it - what really gets Buck in trouble, what keeps him staring, is the sinful, yet small movements of Eddie’s hips as he is swung around. Obviously, some way, deep down, he knows that his best friend is just keeping balance. That the older man is just holding on, shifting his weight in a way that keeps him up.

But that doesn’t stop his brain from imagining those same small movements in a completely different context. A context where Eddie is above him, holding him down, teasing him by circling his hips, his cock nudging Buck’s prostate deep inside of him. Just a taste of what is to come, for when his best friend finally really fucks him.

It’s not the first time he has thought about it. He would be lying if he hadn’t imagined Eddie in that slutty black tank top, pressing him into the nearest wall on the older man’s first day.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registers that he is in fact in public, and that his cock is painfully hard in his jeans, just watching his best friend ride a mechanical bull like the older man has never done anything else in his entire life.

That thought especially catches up with him when Hen leans into his field of vision. “Stop drooling, Buck,” there is a smile in her voice, though, “That’s disgusting, man.”

“I-”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I wasn’t going to deny it, I swear,” he forces from his mouth. He hopes Hen can still hear him over the sounds of the bar, because he isn’t sure what he is saying anyway. “I just- goddamn, did you know he can do that?”

“I for sure didn’t,” Chimney chimes in from his other side, equally as wide-eyed as Buck himself. “I wouldn’t have dared him to do it if I had known.”

For a moment, Buck contemplates answering, but ultimately it doesn’t matter, because as the mechanical bull hits a particular hard thrust, Eddie’s hand suddenly loosens its grip and the older man is falling to the ground, still laughing loudly, joy radiating off of him like he is the sun.

A loud bell sounds then, the music cutting out for a second. The woman from earlier - the manager, if Buck remembers correctly - she comes over, holding a tray of shots and a cowboy hat, of all things. As she approaches Eddie, she seems to be speaking, but Buck can’t make out any of the details, too focused on the fact that his best friend seems to be entirely delighted by the cowboy hat, putting it on his head immediately. With a small gesture at their table, the manager walks over, placing the tray of shots down, and with a sweet smile leaves them be.

In a way, it feels surreal to see Eddie like this. All happy and enthusiastic about a hidden talent that none of them knew about. But at the same time, it is surreal to see him in a cowboy hat as well.

In theory, Buck knows what kind of place this is. The fact that most patrons are dressed up, some sporting boots, some having brought their own hats. It fits the atmosphere. But-

But. Somehow, his brain has never made the connection that one of them might end up with a hat like that. Hasn’t imagined it. He has worked on a ranch before, he used to have that full outfit - but Eddie, Texas-born and -raised, though he knows all of it, his brain cannot connect those facts.

Yet, the hat gives him some sort of edge, like if Buck was in his early 20s again, if he didn’t know the man that is his best friend as intimately as he does - he would have walked over, bought him a drink, tried to end up in his bed.

The realization sinks in, right as Eddie is pulled to the bar by more than a few patrons. It seems, his best friend’s display on the mechanical bull hasn’t just affected him, but some of the drunk women and men here as well.

He is so focused on watching the other firefighter be dragged away that he doesn’t even notice the girl approaching him.

“Hi, hot stuff,” she says, her voice dangerously low, her hand landing directly on his bicep, squeezing lightly. “You here with someone?”

“Right,” he hears from his side, as Hen stands up, pulling Chimney along with her. “That’s our cue to leave. I don’t want to have to watch this.”

“Um…,” he stammers out, brain still hung up on his best friend. “Actually-”

“Because I have to say, I really want you to come home with me. You’re really hot, and I’m sure I can show you a good time,” she continues as if he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. “My friends don’t think I can get you to come home with me, but honestly, I think we can make it work.”

“Listen-,” he tries again, but there are no further words found on his tongue.

“What?” she questions. “I think your friends are about to leave, honey.”

With a dismissive wave, she gestures towards the bar. When Buck follows her gaze, he finds Hen whispering to Eddie, right as the older man’s gaze lands on him. He watches his best friend’s face go through a range of emotions from happy to confused to -

- to flirty?

It’s been a while since he has seen that charming smirk, the half-lidded eyes, the pure self-confidence radiating off Eddie’s body in waves. And he certainly has never seen it directed at him. For a split second, he feels like a deer caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic.

With his eyes still glued to Eddie’s - ocean blue staring at chocolate brown - he can’t miss the way his best friend claps his hand on Hen’s shoulder before walking over.

Actually, walking is the tamest way to call it. It is full on sauntering - hips swinging sinfully with every step. It is a predator stalking its prey. “Well, stud? How’re you holding up?”

He doesn’t know if it’s played up or just due to their general surroundings, but Eddie’s voice dips low, his natural southern drawl coming out noticeably. It sends a full shiver down Buck’s spine and makes the blood roar in his ears, rushing through his veins. He can feel his heart beating double as hard as before.

“I’m-,” his voice cracks, the lump in his throat feeling a lot like he swallowed his own tongue. Maybe he can add his foot to his mouth, just to help with the whole talking thing. Instead of following his descending thoughts into the gutter, he clears his throat, swallowing hard and gasping in a breath before he even tries to continue. “I’m good, yeah, but can’t wait to leave, to be honest.”

“Mmmhhhh,” Eddie hums thoughtfully, his best friend’s entire attention completely focused on him. Before Buck can react, the older man leans close, pressing a large hand to his chest, right over his frantically beating heart. A second later, hot breath hits the shell of his ear, and Eddie, still with that damned drawl whispers dirtily into the scarce few inches between them. “Let me rescue you, baby.”

It steals all the breath from his lungs, in one terribly tiny gasp, that almost escapes his lips in a moan. He feels his eyes flutter closed, both from the pet name as well as the implication of it. He barely catches the moment that his best friend pulls back.

Suddenly, that flirty smirk still present on his lips, Eddie pulls the cowboy hat from his own head and plops it right onto Buck’s curls, making sure to press it down softly so it will stay.

“Here you go, cowboy,” he says, his voice gentle, yet heated in a way that Buck has never heard from him before. As he watches, Eddie’s tongue pokes out, wetting his lower lip, before his teeth sink into it. Buck immediately recognizes the signs for what they are. His best friend is flirting with him. “I’ll be with Chim and Hen when you’re done.”

And then he is gone. His perfect ass on full display as he saunters away to where their friends are ready to leave.

Thoughts whir through his brain. He knows the sign, has used it before, back during his own ranch days. When he used to wear cowboy hats regularly.

Setting your cowboy hat onto someone else’s head means you want them to ride you.

Such a simple rule. Easy to know, easy to spot. An offer. A question.

But right now? A fucking claim.

“Oh,” the girl, whose name he doesn’t even know because she never said and didn’t let him ask either, breathes out.

“Yeah,” Buck breathes out, not even paying any attention to her, his eyes glued to his best friend. “Oh.”

The blood is rushing through his veins, his heart beating twice as fast, and there’s a persistent ringing in his ears. The world around him fades away to nothing, zeroing in on the feeling of the cowboy hat on his head, and the slight flush to Eddie’s face, where he can see the older man standing next to Hen and Chimney.

“Sorry,” he says, getting up without any conscious thought at all. There is the insistent urge to get as close as possible to Eddie as quickly as possible, a tingling under his skin that wants him to move, to run, to eliminate the space between them until not even a hair fits between their bodies.

He feels like he is floating until his hand wraps around his best friend’s wrist, already dragging Eddie away from the others, moving through bodies without care. There is no thought in his mind, just the need to get out of the crowded bar.

“Buck,” he hears from behind him, filtering through the haze. “You can calm down.”

But by then, he has already made it to his apparent destination - the bar bathroom, as he is only now realizing. Just as he pushes Eddie into the secluded room, pushing the door closed and flipping the lock, the reality of the situation washes over him.

For a few minutes, nothing had been real, none of his actions had consequences, but now, here he is. Standing in a filthy bathroom, the smell of piss and beer overwhelming in the tiny space, with his best friend.

With his best friend, who just claimed him as the older man’s property for everyone in the bar to see.

It makes his brain swim with static, thoughts whirring by unobserved. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to ask, so many words all piling up somewhere between his larynx and his lips. He has no idea where to even start.

“Shut up,” is what he ends up hissing out. “God, Eddie, what the fuck.”

It isn’t the most eloquent way to articulate what he actually wants to say, but it does get the job done for now. Especially judging by his best friend’s expression.

Eddie seems hesitant, at first, his face carefully neutral and guarded. But as soon as Buck speaks, his best friend’s lips pull into that smug smirk again, eyes falling half-closed when chocolate orbs focus fully and entirely on Buck himself. It’s intense - is one word for it, to put it mildly.

It’s also incredibly attractive, that look on Eddie’s face.

Buck has to swallow against the heady desire, rising in his throat, thrumming through his veins. “Eddie,” he forces out instead, “did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what, sweetheart?” The older man teases softly, already inching forward, nudging Buck back, pressing their bodies together against the wall. “Mh?”

The hard line of his best friend leaning into his body, it is intoxicating, his brain short-circuiting, a soft haze floating over and through him. Hesitantly, he reaches out, curling his fingers around Eddie’s waist, right over the band of the jeans his best friend is wearing. Even through the fabric of the shirt, he can feel the heat radiate through into him. He can feel his fingers shaking, an unnameable mix of emotions thrumming just below his skin.

Two can play that game, a small voice adds right at the back of his mind.

Pitching his voice low, he finally gathers the courage to voice the one constant question running through his head. “Do you really want me to ride you, cowboy?”

There, hat in the ring, the voice whispers, his turn now.

And what a turn it is.

Eddie, before he even opens his mouth to speak, leans in, breath brushing hotly over Buck’s lips. There are barely a few inches between them, tension rising with every time their chests brush together with each intake of air. “Buck,” the older man finally whispers, voice low, rough like sandpaper, and enough to make his eyelids flutter closed with all the arousal burning through his veins, “if I had my way with you, you would never leave my bed ever again.”

His low groan at the words is interrupted by soft lips pressing insistently into his own. A hand finds its way into his hair, pulling his head down and directly into Eddie’s orbit, shifting the cowboy hat dangerously, as his best friend kisses him heavily.

It’s not the most surprising thing in the world - them, crashing into each other and turning into a supernova of emotions boiling over. It actually feels strangely familiar, like coming home after a hard day at work, dropping into the sheets of his bed and knowing his dreams will be sweet that night.

There is a wet sensation that permeates the haze in his brain - it registers rather quickly after that that Eddie’s tongue is brushing against the seam of his lips. A moan works its way out of his throat and drops his mouth open. His best friend immediately takes the chance to slip his tongue inside, licking sweetly over his teeth, the roof of his mouth, battling softly with his own tongue for a moment.

Time slips by, measured in the amount of Buck pulling away to gasp in a heavy breath, before pressing back into Eddie’s space. Time slips by, measured in the amount of the older man tugging on his blond curls, fingernails scratching gently over his scalp. Time slips by, measured in the unconscious movement of hips circling, pressing together.

Another soft groan rips from his throat, as Eddie finally pulls away. Their chests are both heaving with the lack of oxygen. It feels like hours or possibly months have passed between the moment his best friend set the cowboy hat on his curls and this moment now.

It lights him up on the inside. The noise of blood rushing through his veins is loud in his ears, his heart beating out a hectic staccato that he can’t see stopping any time soon, but above all of it, his jeans feel too tight, his hard cock trapped in the confines of the fabric.

At the same time, he can feel Eddie’s large hand tangled in his hair, the other pressed to his waist. There is heat radiating off both points of contact that light him up, sending little shock waves through every single cell of his body.

“Buck,” the older man finally whispers, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. It sounds like a prayer spoken in the confession booth of a church, and he is sure he has never heard a sweeter sound than his name falling from the lips he has just kissed.

There’s a wet sheen to his best friend’s lips that Buck can’t pull his eyes away from. That’s his spit, he finally realizes. That’s his spit clinging onto Eddie’s oh so red and swollen lips. An undeniable piece of evidence painting both of them guilty as sin.

He finds himself trapped in the heated gaze of his best friend, Eddie’s eyes half-lidded but alert and trained onto him. He has to fight the urge to lean back in and connect their lips once more.

“Buck,” Eddie chuckles, sounding lighter than Buck can remember ever hearing him, “focus, cowboy.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, his voice coming out breathy and wrecked. “I’m with you.”

“Glad to hear it.” The older man’s chocolate gaze softens, and if Buck was thinking clearly, he’d call the emotion he finds there love. “Wanna get out of here, mi amor? Go somewhere a little more private where you can…,” a short glance up towards the cowboy hat, now a little askew, but holding on nonetheless, “...demonstrate your riding, maybe?”

“God, Eddie,” he groans, “let’s go to mine. Carla’s staying with Chris tonight, right?”

He barely registers the older man’s nod, too busy grabbing his best friend’s hand and flicking the lock to get them out of the bar.

The journey back to his place is honestly just a haze to him. He does not remember leaving the bar, does not even know whether he said bye to either Hen or Chimney. The drive back is a blur, as well. The only sensation that he can later recall is the heat and pressure of Eddie’s hand wrapped around his leg, fingers inching over his inner thigh and fitting just right, like they never belong anywhere else.

His brain finally catches up with current events when he finally enters his loft, Eddie hot on his heels. Within seconds he is pressed up against the door that closes with a quiet click, his best friend’s lips pressing to the side of his neck, hands roaming over his chest and shoulders. The cowboy hat wobbles precariously as the back of his head thuds gently against the door.

His eyes flutter closed, just taking in the sensations of open-mouthed, wet kisses, lips and tongue pressing over his skin, tasting him wherever they can reach. Suddenly, teeth bury into him, sliding right into the tendon at the side of his neck. The sensation, the sweet and pleasurable haze of pain, leaves his mouth dropping open, a hard gasp pulling air into his lungs.

Immediately Eddie swipes his tongue over the tender spot, soothing the sting with soft kitten licks, before the older man’s lips brush over the spot again, sucking on the abused skin.

“Eddie,” Buck mumbles, forces the name from his lips in between gasps, “Please. I need you to fuck me.”

A chuckle sounds from the space between his neck and shoulder, another biting bruise sucked in place, before he hears the other man’s voice muffled into his skin. “Mmmmh, but I’m enjoying this -,” another nip, another slide of lips and tongue and teeth, “- way too much to stop.”

He raises his hands, his fingers pulling through the loops at the waistband of Eddie’s jeans and pulling - hard. The older man goes easily, or maybe it is the fact that he seems surprised by the action, judging by the gasp let out against his skin. But their bodies collide immediately, and with it, Buck can finally feel Eddie’s hard cock rub against his own through the fabric of their jeans.

At that first point of contact, a low moan escapes him without his consent, the shape of it sounding more like a needy “please” than anything else. That is what finally gets Eddie to move, pulling away from his body as quickly as Buck had brought them together.

“Okay, cowboy,” the older man says, his voice sounding remarkably steady for the things they have been doing so far, the complete opposite of how Buck himself feels inside. “Let’s go upstairs and let’s get this rodeo started.”

“That was so bad,” Buck laughs, only to break off when his best friend presses their hips together again, their cocks brushing sinfully. “Okay, no, I get it. Let me-”

His hands slide down to the hem of his shirt, already pulling it up and trying to lodge it over his head, but in the process, the cowboy hat tumbles down, landing with a soft thump on the ground beside them.

“Oh, no, we can’t have that,” Eddie tuts, gently bending down to pick up the hat, taking the shirt from Buck’s hand in the process and dropping it on the ground, “you gotta look the part, mi amor.”

With a gentle hand, the hat is placed back on top of his curls, and Buck can feel the blush spread through his cheeks, heat rising below his skin. It is such an obvious reminder of what the older man wants that it gets the blood thrumming in his veins.

Suddenly, every piece of clothing between them is too much, every inch of space creating a cold and barren sensation that makes him ache for the physical contact of hands on his limbs, lips gliding over his skin.

“Eddie,” he finally moans, his best friend’s name the only constant thought in his mind, a prayer that never leaves him alone. “Let’s go upstairs, please.”

“Yes,” he hears through the haze clouding his mind, “come on.”

Long fingers wrap around his wrist, fingertips settling right over his pulse, already pulling him from the door finally. The distance between his door and bed fades away to nothing, lost to the haze of pleasure rushing through his veins. But finally, hands start wandering and the button of his jeans pops open, zipper being dragged down almost instantly after.

Before he can blink, cold hits the skin of his thighs, as his jeans and underwear are pushed to the ground, hitting the floor with a soft sound. Almost unconsciously, a whimper rises in his throat, escaping into the quiet around them, as hot fingers explore the soft skin of his thighs.

He chances a glance down and finds his best friend kneeling before him, eyes seemingly glued to the spaces where hands press into his skin. There is a faint blush covering Eddie’s cheeks, mouth dropped open in an almost reverent expression.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby,” the older man finally murmurs, eyes tracking up and finding Buck’s blue gaze. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “get naked and let me ride you.”

A groan rips from Eddie’s throat, his best friend’s eyes rolling back at the words. But already the older man is getting up, pulling his shirt over his head in the same movement. It’s such a smooth move, it makes Buck want to kiss him immediately.

Which- he can, he realizes belatedly, pulling Eddie’s face close and pressing their lips together. It’s not such a heated kiss like before, their lips sliding together almost tenderly in that moment. It feels appropriate for the feelings rushing through him, the soft haze, the overwhelming arousal, but also the love for his best friend that has been accumulated for years, at this point.

“Let me,” Buck whispers against the older man’s lips, fingers already moving to the waistband of Eddie’s jeans, toying with both the button and zipper.

“Yes, Buck, of course.”

There is no other encouragement necessary than the soft growl of Eddie’s voice. Buck’s fingers work smartly and deftly to undress his best friend, pushing the offending fabric over the older man’s hips, letting them drop to the floor.

He takes a moment, just to take in the body before him, the defined abs, the strong thighs, the veins present on his arms. All of it makes his mouth water, makes him want to touch and taste and press his lips to every single inch of skin. Finally, his eyes drop down to the hard cock between his best friend’s thighs, fully erect and standing proudly, already an angry red in color and slightly wet at the top.

There is a strangled sound working itself out of his mouth, somewhere between a moan, a groan and a curse that comes from deep within.

At the sound, Eddie’s eyes flick up to his eyes from where they were roaming over his chest, his best friend’s face taking on a concerned expression. “Hey,” he whispers, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can stop at any time and it’s totally fine.”

It makes Buck chuckle a little, just a tiny eruption of sound. “I know, Eddie,” he says softly, his voice coming more gently than he intends it to, “that wasn’t a bad sound, though, I think I need you inside me right now, preferably it should have been in me years ago. I can’t believe we haven’t done this before.”

At that, Eddie’s face goes strangely soft, the chocolate gaze melting into unwavering love, but there is still some arousal present on the older man’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s do this.” A sweet kiss is pressed to his lips, short and incredibly gentle. “Lube? Condoms?”

It takes Buck a second to think about it and answer, his brain returning to the pleasurable haze present since they left the bar. “Um… Nightstand. First drawer. But-”

“But?”

“We don’t have to use condoms if you don’t want to. I’m clean.”

Another groan from his best friend, another hard kiss, a slip of tongue, before their bodies disconnect fully. A hand finds its way up his form, fingernails scratching over his chest, a quick tug to his nipple, but inevitably giving a gentle shove right above his sternum and pushing his willing body onto the bed.

He lets himself fall, landing squarely in the pillows, and taking the moment when Eddie rummages through the nightstand, digging the half-empty tube of lube out with a smug smirk, he pushes the duvet out of the way in preparation.

The lube is dropped unceremoniously next to him, tantalizing in its closeness as well as its meaning. Buck has to take a deep breath, trying to focus back into the moment. He looks up and finds his best friend leering at him, smile crooked and wolfish.

“You should see yourself right now,” the older man smiles, slowly crawling over his body on the bed. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

It sends a shiver down his spine, his skin raising in goosebumps. “Oh.”

“What?”

Lips slide over his neck, wet kisses pressed wherever Eddie can reach, the space between their bodies diminishing to absolutely nothing as the older man pushes him into the mattress. That single word is mumbled into the skin right over his collarbone.

“I just didn’t think that-,” but the words stick in his throat.

“-that calling you gorgeous would do it for you?” Eddie teases. “Because you are. You are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. So beautiful.”

The words burrow under his skin, leaving a tingling sensation behind, heat licking through his limbs. A gasp falls from his lips as he can feel the blush darken on his cheeks.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he whines, somewhat hating himself for how desperate he sounds, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Ssssh, baby, I’m right here. It’s okay, you’re doing so well for me.”

He can feel another soft press of lips against his collarbone, right where the skin is the thinnest. Then, cold air pushes between their bodies as his best friend leans back, the space between them growing further apart. For a second, the haze in his brain prevents him from recognizing what is happening, but just as he opens his mouth to ask what Eddie is doing, the click of the bottle of lube registers to him.

Suddenly, there are hands on his knees, pushing his legs apart slowly and teasingly, fingers gliding over his skin in barely-there touches. The blood is thrumming through his veins again, but this time it burns hotter than a thousand suns. This is it. This is the moment he has been anticipating all evening.

For just a moment, a thought enters his mind that he cannot seem to shake. This moment will ruin him forever for anyone else. Once he will get a taste of Eddie, there will be no one else for him ever again. This is it.

He has to actively fight the urge to just let the words fall from his lips. Instead, his gaze finally finds the older man’s eyes, chocolate orbs already fixed on his face, looking for every single detail, every slightest hitch or emotions that might be visible.

“Eddie,” he whispers, voice already cracking. Through all the sensations, he fights his way through the haze, raising his hand and curling it in his best friend’s hair, pulling their heads closer together.

Eddie lets himself be pulled down without complaint, resting their foreheads against each other gently. Their breaths mingle together between them, harsh pants that brush hotly against skin. It is intoxicating.

It is also very distracting from what else the older man is doing, because the moment a slippery finger brushes against his rim, stroking teasingly in little circles around his entrance, it comes as a shock. It rips a gasp from his throat, slipping into the space between their lips and Buck can see his best friend’s lips pull into a satisfied smirk.

“Just relax, baby, I’ll take care of you,” Eddie breathes, slowly slipping his finger inside.

The feeling is more clinical than anything else. It is barely enough of a stretch to be felt, just a weird intrusion. Thus, the finger slips in easily, to the second knuckle.

But at the same time, that is Eddie’s finger breaching him, slowly pulling out and pushing back in. That thought alone is enough to steal the breath from his lungs, his chest feeling tight.

“Come on,” Buck mumbles, “I can take more. Please, just give it to me.”

“Mhhhh, impatient,” the older man teases, “I should have known you were a slut for it. Can you feel how easy it is for me to fuck you?”

His fingers curl into Eddie’s hair tighter at the words. Hot shame flashes through his veins, a loud moan falling from his lips. “Shit.”

“Too much?”

“No, fuck, no, I love it. Keep going.”

It takes barely another minute before another finger breaches him, Eddie’s lips falling back onto the side of his neck, teeth scraping deliciously over skin before sinking in again. With each push and pull of fingers, another small mark is bitten into his muscles. He knows there will be several visible hickeys as soon as they are done.

The fingers scissor inside him, stretching him gently and moving around to find different angles. It doesn’t come as a shock when the tips of his best friend’s digits finally press against his prostate, hitting it spot-on, making him curse loudly.

There are already stars dancing behind his eyes at the intense feeling floating through his entire form. Everything narrows down to the points where Eddie is touching him, no other sensation penetrating and no way that Buck can focus on anything.

His brain grows fuzzy with every movement of Eddie’s fingers, everything becoming hazy, like a dark blanket surrounding him and swallowing every sensation that isn’t directly in touch with his overheating skin.

When a third finger finally enters him, his back bows, heaving up from the mattress, the sting and stretch better than any fantasy he could have ever come up with about this - about their first time together.

Soft praise is mumbled against the thinnest patch of skin at the base of his throat, letting him slip further and further into the haze of pleasure.

“Eddie, please,” Buck finally forces out, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, the words sticky like molasses. “I need a moment.”

The fingers inside him still immediately, Eddie’s head pulling away from his throat and their eyes meeting. There is a concerned frown painted over his lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I need to ride you right now,” Buck pants out, hips shifting infinitesimally on the fingers, rutting like a dog in heat. “Otherwise I can’t think clearly enough to do anything but let you fuck me.”

“Dios, Buck,” the older man groans, pressing their bodies together. “Yes, go for it.”

It takes every ounce of strength he still has to push Eddie back onto the mattress, throwing a leg over his best friend’s hips and settling in his lap comfortably. Still trying to catch his breath, he takes a moment just to take in the sight before him.

Eddie looks absolutely debauched, his hair standing up in awkward angles, obviously from Buck’s own fingers having tugged and pulled on it for too long. There is still a high flush, pink dusting over his cheeks. His chest is glistening with sweat, the heat between them swirling dangerously in their shared space.

“Okay,” he finally breathes, leaning down to connect their lips once more. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Slowly, he reaches over, finding the lube where it was discarded somewhere among the sheets, and pouring a generous amount of it over Eddie’s hard cock. Equally as slowly, he finally reaches behind him, grasping his best friend’s dick and lowering himself down.

The stretch of it lights him up from the inside, Eddie immediately hitting all the right spots that make him see stars. For a moment, none of his muscles want to work, his thighs shift, but he cannot bring himself to lift up at all.

“You should see yourself right now, mi amor,” Eddie mumbles, hands reaching out and settling on his hips, holding on tightly as if their lives depend on it. “You are gorgeous, you are doing so well.”

It’s enough to get him going finally, pressing his hands against the older man’s chest to find purchase, he finally lifts himself up until he can only feel the head of Eddie’s cock inside of him, before slamming right back down. That first move catches them both off-guard, twin groans of pleasure reverberating around the empty loft.

From then, it is a haze of intoxicating pleasure and heat spreading between them. Every move feels like chasing the perfect moment, pressure building in his lower abdomen, his cock feeling heavy where it bounces against his hips.

He can feel the wetness he is leaving behind on his own stomach, precum spilling from his cock persistently, even though he can’t touch himself without losing balance.

Eddie is staring up at him with a beautiful look of awe on his face. He doubts that he looks any different.

At a particularly hard thrust, his best friend’s fingers dig into his hips, nails pressing into his skin, tiny pinpricks of pain that send shivers down his spine. Even through all of it - the ache in his thighs, the bruises like a collar around his neck, and now the nails scratching over sensitive skin - nothing can distract him from the delicious drag of Eddie’s dick inside him.

“Baby,” the older man moans, his voice sounding rough, “I’m close.”

Buck cannot form words, no thought in his brain sticking. There is just the arousal thrumming through his veins that won’t let him stop bouncing up and down, as if he was born for it. A needy whine is the only sound he seems to be able to form.

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, hand already stroking over his hip bone, long fingers wrapping around his aching cock. “You are so perfect for me, riding me so well. I knew you would be. Such a good boy for me.”

It makes him shudder, the pressure behind his sternum building, white-hot pleasure like a ball sinking low in his stomach. There are barely a few strokes of Eddie’s hand before Buck cries out with the perfect flick of a wrist.

His orgasm crashes into him like a wave - if he was thinking even less clearly, he would probably compare it to the tsunami, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t.

Coming on his best friend’s cock with his best friend’s hand wrapped around his own dick, it feels like it is out of this world, he feels heaven-struck, his brain completely blanking. He thinks he might be moaning Eddie’s name, but he can’t really tell because he can barely feel his own body at this point.

The hand still on his hip tightens momentarily, the only physical cue he gets before the older man’s hips lift up, drilling into him repeatedly. Eddie seems to be chasing his own orgasm, effectively fucking Buck through his own high. He feels himself clench down hard, and with a strangled groan, his best friend thrusts one more time before freezing below him, hot spurts of cum covering his insides, filling him up.

They remain locked together for a few seconds, both of them too out of breath to do anything. Buck slowly peels his eyes open, not sure when he closed them in the first place, only to find Eddie’s own awe-struck expression glued to his face.

It makes him want to laugh. Yesterday, and not even 3 hours ago, he wouldn’t have known what that expression meant, but it is clearly some form of love shining through. Dedication and devotion, at the least. His chest feels lighter than it has in months at that particular gaze, a warmth spreading through him that is so unlike the heat of arousal and pleasure.

It is soft and slow, dragging through him like molasses and lighting up every cell in his body one by one. It feels like joy radiating out from his heart, taking over his lungs and with every breath rushing through his blood stream.

With a heavy groan, Buck lets himself fall to the side, barely avoiding Eddie’s chest in the process. His thighs are burning, an insistent ache that wants all of his attention now that he has come, something that even the spreading joy cannot distract him from. Crashing into the pillows, he mutters, under his breath, the only thought in his brain: “Fuck me.”

From slightly beside his head, Eddie snorts. His best friend’s hand finds the back of his head again, fingers curling into his hair and stroking gently. “I literally just did.”

“If I remember correctly, I did all the work,” he forces out in between heavy breaths. Somehow his brain is completely offline still, no thought persistent enough to be of note. The only thing he can focus on is Eddie’s fingers stroking through his hair, soothing him, making him float and giving him something to focus on at the same time. The gentle ministrations through his sweaty curls feels heavenly, a perfect distraction for the time being.

He is wholly unprepared for Eddie to shift even closer, to pull him into his best friend’s broad chest, pillowing his head on a hard pec that is littered with purpling bruises. He is fully unprepared for Eddie to speak again, but when the words register, his mouth drops open with all the possibilities of what that could mean: “Well, then I’ll properly fuck you next time.”

He can hear the smile in his best friend’s voice, and there is a soft hint of smugness sounding with it. His brain is still hazy, still lost in a space somewhere between reality and sex. The implications barely register, before the words are out of his mouth: “Next time?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean, there will be a next time?”

There is an awkward silence, his question hanging in the air like a heavy fog. His heart speeds up, barely calmed down from their previous activities, but already running a hundred miles an hour again. Buck squeezes his eyes shut tightly against the urge to cringe, or even to run his mouth, make the tension between them feel even heavier.

Below him, Eddie shifts noticeably. The muscles under his head move as, Buck guesses, his best friend tries to catch a look at his face. “Buck,” he hears the older man’s voice, whispered gently, almost reverently, right beside his face, “what do you think just happened?”

“I don’t-,” he refuses to open his eyes, even if the soft tone of his best friend’s voice makes him think everything might be okay after all. He has seen Eddie’s gaze, he knows what he saw there, but his brain still isn’t firing on all cylinders. It slowly comes back online. And with it, there are more sensations that return. He can feel Eddie’s breath rattle around his chest, his heartbeat slow and calm, no sign of anxiety or any other upsetting emotions. He takes a second to think back over the last few moments. “I don’t know the answer to that question?”

The chest below him moves with a rumbling laugh, a heavy exhale of joy into the space between their bodies. Immediately, he can feel Eddie relax again. The fingers in his hair resume their rhythm, tugging and pulling on strands and scratching gently over his scalp. Then, almost imperceptibly, lips press to his forehead in a perfectly gentle kiss.

One simple gesture and it makes his chest ache with all the yearning for this one perfect moment. This, every single day for the rest of his life.

He has to actively focus on his best friend’s voice when Eddie finally starts talking quietly again. “Do you honestly think I would fuck you once? You? My best friend in the entire world? A one night stand?”

It feels like Eddie expects a response, but before he can stutter out anything, before he can even make his brain try to formulate a single thought after that particular tone in his best friend’s voice, the older man cuts him off again.

“No, let me talk, Buck,” Eddie whispers, but he might as well have been screaming. His voice echoes in the quiet descending on the loft around them. “You are the love of my life. I would give everything for you. If this was only a one night stand to you, then it sucks, but I can accept that,” Buck can feel the heavy, stuttering breath the older man takes at the thought. “But you should know. I love you. I am in love with you. You are already everything I could ever want and, maybe, tonight, I was jealous, because some part of my brain thinks you are mine and mine alone. So, I came over, and I claimed you in the most obvious way I could in that bar, and then I let you come to me, if you wanted that. I assumed you were on board when you dragged me to the bathroom. Buck, what is this to you?”

Throughout the entirety of his best friend’s speech - the words whispered gently into his ears - a shiver works itself down his spine, goosebumps raising over his skin. He can feel a stinging in his eyes that he hopes won’t resolve in tears.

“Eddie,” he gasps out, barely audible. He has to swallow a few times, before the words stop sticking to the roof of his mouth, stop clinging to the lump that is lodged tightly in his throat. There are only so many ways to answer, after all. “Of course, I love you. I would never risk what we have if I thought this was a one time thing. Because I couldn’t do that - can’t do that. I am so incredibly in love with you - there is nobody else for me. I don’t want anybody but you, Eddie.”

It feels too honest, something that should only be whispered between the sheets, late at night, with only the moon as a witness.

Yet, at the same time, Buck wants to scream all of it from the rooftops of LA. Let every single person around know that he is in love with Eddie Diaz, his best friend, the best man he knows, the love of his life.

It’s not a new revelation - the fact that he loves Eddie. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he has known for a very long time. It is, however, new, to say the words out loud instead of just thinking them.

The sempiternal repetition of I Love You I Love You I Love You occupying his brain every time he so much as thinks of Eddie. Like an invisible string tying his heart and mind together.

“I love you,” he breathes again, just for the satisfaction of having said it again. It makes warmth bloom in his chest, expanding further and further until all he can feel is that enormous swell of emotions he has stored up only for his best friend.

There is a choked-off noise from somewhere above his head, before lips press insistently to the crown of his head. A train of close-lipped kisses trailing from his ear, over his forehead and finally hitting right over his birthmark.

“I love you, Buck,” Eddie answers, his voice sounding tight with emotion, like his heart leapt into his throat and is strangling the words before they can escape. But somehow they still come out, flowing beautifully - and Buck cannot wait to hear them, to say them every single day for the rest of his life.

(Walking into work the next day is the easiest thing he has ever done. His hand is linked with Eddie’s, a perpetual flush present on both of their cheeks, thanks to the wide smiles that just won't leave their faces.

Somewhere below his collar, and on his hips, there are several new bruises blooming. A sluggish ache keeps reminding him of last night, the feeling of being held and being loved in return - an insistent souvenir that he hopes will last for days on end.

When Chimney spots them, walking up the stairs, Buck already knows that the teasing will be worth it. But he can see it on his brother-in-law’s face - there are already plans in effect.

Before he can even open his mouth to say something, to defend himself maybe, there is music blasting from the kitchen area. Right next to Hen and Bobby is a giant boombox, obnoxiously loud in the quiet midday air.

To the background noise of Hen’s cackle and Chimney’s whooping laugh, the words “SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY” sound throughout the station.

“I guess, we had that one coming,” Eddie murmurs into his ears, the older man’s lips pressed to the tiny hickey right below, over the hinge of his jaw.

Even though he blushes, he can’t stop the laughter erupting from his mouth.

Yeah, the teasing will be worth it.)