Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five //
“I can’t believe this,” Mike whines, “the ride home is going to be even worse than the ride here.” He throws his dark blue duffel bag on the pile that's being slowly transferred into the storage under the bus. “Everyone is dirty, their clothes are dirty, their hair is dirty - instead of feet, it’s going to smell like dirty feet. I hate you.”
“Yeah, I’m real bummed about that,” Eddie snarks before adding Max and El’s bags to the small mountain of colorful duffel bags and soft suitcases.
Over at the door to this bus, Steve and one of the counselors from the boys’ cabin are checking names off a clipboard as the kids start to climb into the bus. Vickie and Robin are at the next bus down. There are four buses in all and Eddie is oh so very glad that they’ll be full of kids and leaving soon. The staff gets to stick around for another night for a goodbye party. Some of the staff stay on for all three summer sessions but the three of them were just here to look after their kids so he, Robin and Steve are headed home tomorrow before the next set of campers and the new staff arrive.
“Thank you for carrying our bags up the hill, Eddie,” El says, leaning into his side. Eddie puts one arm around her. Normally Mike would scoff and go off annoyed but it looks like he's actually grown over these last two weeks because he just grimaces and walks away. El watches him go and then sort of head butts Eddie's shoulder. “I can’t believe you told the real story of the demogorgon as a ghost story.”
Eddie grins wickedly. “No one will believe it but everyone will know it by the time I’m done.”
She gives him one of her soft smiles and lets Max pull her away to say goodbye to the other girls they made friends with.
“Later, nerd,” Max calls out, arching one of her dark red eyebrows at Eddie.
“Takes one to know one,” He sing-songs back, sticking out his tongue.
She returns the gesture, mocking him in a nasally voice, “Takes one to know one.”
Eddie guffaws. She’s such a little asshole. Probably why she’s his favorite.
Will and Lucas stop at Eddie’s side, Lucas giving him a one armed side hug but Will giving him a full, tight hug, whispering, “See you day after tomorrow for session zero of the summer campaign–”
Lucas and Eddie both join in, voices overlapping, as they growl out, “The Summer of Monsters."
Dustin drops his bag next to Eddie, sticking his hands in the front pocket of his thin sweatshirt and frowning. “I don’t think we should call it that, it feels like tempting fate.”
“You worry too much,” Eddie assures him, only to have Dustin flail, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
Eddie does some ohhhhhh wavey fingers at him and then pretends to go in for a quick bite on his nose, Dustin slaps his hand over Eddie’s face, “No, don’t even.” With a light shove, he pushes Eddie back and then scoops up his dropped bag and tosses it on the pile before jogging over to where the rest of his friends are roughhousing.
Fifteen minutes after the last bus pulls away, the after party is in full swing. There is at least one boombox blasting what he thinks is Bruce Springsteen down by the lake, whoops and screams and splashes echoing across the water.
At the mess hall, he and Steve help load up one of the wagons with packages of hot dog and hamburger buns and all the fixins. Two of the guys are carrying ice chests filled with soda to take down to the dock where everyone’s thrown out blankets and towels to sit and eat on. One of the full summer staffers, Matt, who runs the hiking and nature activities, reaches up behind the jars of pickles and pulls out three handles of vodka, winking at Eddie and putting a finger to his lips indicating that drinking is not encouraged.
For a moment, Eddie thinks about telling Steve. Steve has a very strict “no drinking and swimming” rule born from his Upsidedown PTSD but then Eddie stops and gives himself a hard shake. He’s not a narc! Everyone still here is an adult over eighteen, if they want to make stupid decisions, that’s on them.
Jesus Christ, stupid decisions? Some booze and swimming? When did he become such a goody two shoes? Next thing you know he’ll be making fucking flash cards with Nancy Wheeler and respecting police officers. Absolutely not, no thank you.
After a nod of understanding to Matt, Eddie ducks outside to check to see if he can help with anything. Director Pam and one of the full time cooks are grilling up burgers and hot dogs and they gladly hand him one of the full trays of cooked meat when he wanders over. Steve, who’s followed him out, grabs a second one and they trail after the wagon filled with paper plates and condiments down to the folding tables set up in the summer sunshine.
A few of the girls, clad in a rainbow of bikinis and shorts, are setting up hamburger and hot stations on one table, opening up tupperware containers of the potato and macaroni salads Eddie and the other kitchen crews had made last night after dinner. There’s a fruit salad in fresh whipped cream he can’t wait to get a plate of. Honestly he’s learned so much about cooking in these two short weeks, he might apply for a job at the diner in town. Who even knew you could make whip cream with nothing but sugar, vanilla and heavy cream?
“I’m gonna grab a soda for myself, what do you guys want and I’ll put them on our blankets,” Vickie asks, laying her hand on Robin’s arm for longer than necessary.
Robin’s cheeks go as pink as Vickie’s shoulders and she squeaks out, “I’ll take a root beer if there is one.”
Vickie grins, her little red bob of hair bouncing like she can’t quite keep still. She turns to Eddie and Steve with a questioning look.
With an answering grin, Eddie tells her, “I’ll take a cherry whatever if there is one, if not, an orange soda maybe? Thanks.”
“Just a regular soda, thanks Vickie,” Steve turns one of his dreamy smiles on her and it’s clear she’s completely gone on Robin when she’s not even phased by it. Just grins back and skips over to the ice chests in her bright yellow bikini top and her miles of freckles.
Robin sighs. Steve flicks a grape at her head. Eddie breaks them up before they knock over a table and the next thing he knows they’re all lounging on the blankets Robin set out for them, not talking as they dig in. There’s another couple with them, he doesn't know either of their names but he knows she was one of the counselors for the youngest girls’ cabins and he one of the counselors for the mid-aged boys. And there’s a single girl in a bright red bikini that looks like a stiff wind would blow it off of her. She’s not eating, just drinking a diet Tab and giving what looks like the best blow job of her life to a Tootsie Pop while she stares at Steve like he’s next.
Spearing a chunk of fruit on his plate, Eddie swishes it around in the whip cream before holding his fork out to Steve, “Try this whip cream I made.” It’s a little petty, sure, but he knows that Steve will play along.
Twisting just his tongue around the chunk of–peach maybe?-Steve pulls it toward him with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and humming as he pulls the fruit off and chews it slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact with Eddie. “Delicious, practically melted in my mouth,” Steve says huskily and Eddie pops an instant boner.
That’s inconvenient. Good thing his shirt is loose enough to hang down over his crotch the way he’s sitting cross-legged. He’s cut the sides of the shirt almost all the way to waist so his scars and tats can be seen on the sides but his front is intact and plenty long enough for modesty. And at least he’s wearing a shirt. Steve had taken his off somewhere between the bus and here. It’s just muscles and a hairy chest as far as Eddie can see. Even his scars are manly and sexy. Godamn, Eddie wants to fucking eat him.
Two can play at that game, though. Reaching up with his thumb, Eddie brushes away imaginary whip cream at the corner of Steve’s lips and then brings the thumb to his own mouth and sucks on the pad, “Mmmm, it is.”
Robin hits him in the face with a grape this time. “Whoops,” she says with a shrug.
After lunch is eaten, most everyone helps out, lugging things back to the mess hall and breaking down the few tables. Then someone drags out the croquet set from the equipment cabin and sets it up in the lawn, challenging the loser to having to streak down the dock and into the lake, naked. Clearly the tall blond summer staffer who runs the arts and crafts cabin has been drinking the vodka because she steps up and accepts his challenge.
Some of the people go back to swimming, some spread their blankets out to watch the game, Steve snags Eddie’s hand and pulls him back up the hill to the mess hall. He goes willingly. On their way, they spot Tootsie Pop girl sneaking into the showers with one of the boys’ counselors, Brian maybe? And they see Vickie and Robin walking up the path to the campfire basin. They’re not holding hands but they’re so close that their shoulders are rubbing together.
The kitchen is empty, everything cleaned up and put away already. Eddie lets himself be backed up against one of the prep counters. Steve’s hands are everywhere, his chest, his sides, cupping his ass cheeks to pull him into Steve’s pelvis. Eddie braces against the counter behind him, throwing his head back when Steve drags his hot, wet tongue along the underside of his jaw.
The sound of the other staffers shouts of laughter and the noise from the stereo drifts in through the mess hall windows but they’re very much alone up here.
“You sure about this?” Steve asks, hot breath ghosting against Eddie’s throat.
“Yeah, fuck–right there, ngh–oh god,” Eddie moans. “It’s the last night, kids are all gone and every time I was in here cooking, you– oh god, yeah, yes, fuck. ” Steve has Eddie’s dick in his mouth before he’s even got Eddie’s pants fully unzipped. Grabbing the back of his own shirt with the hand braced on the counter, Eddie pulls it tight so he has a clear line of sight to watch Steve blow him. Steve gives the kind of blow jobs that Eddie has read about in the erotic dime store novels he used to pinch from stores in Indy when he was younger. A blow job from Steve will buckle a man’s knees, sap his energy, change his religion, probably allow him to see God. It’s a thing of both beauty and devastation and Eddie is more than willing to be wrecked by him every single time.
Steve swallows around him and Eddie whimpers, legs going weak so Steve has to press his hands to Eddie’s hips to help hold him up. He never takes his mouth off of Eddie’s cock though, just keeps slurping and sucking. When he can feel himself getting close, Eddie squeezes one of Steve’s hands where it’s holding him steady. He knows that Steve is going to swallow – loves to swallow honestly – but it’s just polite to warn a man before you jizz in his mouth.
His eyes roll back in his head and his back arches as he leans almost flat on the counter to buck up into Steve’s almost vacuum sucking mouth. Finally with a cry wrenched from his depths, Eddie comes, squirting into the back of Steve’s throat. He moans around Eddie’s cock, eyelashes fluttering, fingers squeezing Eddie’s hips through the aftershocks of his orgasm.
Eddie could pass out. Right here. He could just melt into a puddle and pass out on the floor with his dick out for everyone to see. Steve takes care of that though, tucking his softening cock back into his cut off shorts all neat and tidy, even giving it a little pat that makes Eddie’s balls ache before standing up with a smug fucking grin.
“That was fast, even for you,” Steve says with puffy pink lips and a devilish shine in his eyes.
“Two weeks is a lifetime,” Eddie growls, pulling Steve in by the waistband of his shorts to bring him close enough for Eddie to lick one of his nipples with the flat of his tongue. He pulls the elastic waist of Steve’s green gym shorts away from his waist and snakes his other hand inside to grab ahold of Steve’s dick. “No underwear?”
“A boy can dream?” Steve shrugs, unrepentant.
Again, the sound of revelry drifts up from the lake, whooping and splashing, what sounds like Bruce Springsteen on the radio. The staff letting loose in the big empty camp. He doubts anyone is coming up here anytime soon.
Eddie flips their positions, shoving at Steve until the other man jumps up onto the counter and then scoots back so Eddie can wedge himself between his spread knees. Grabbing the sides of the shorts, Eddie tugs them down to the tops of Steve’s thighs, freeing his thick cock but trapping his balls under the waistband.
Steve has such a pretty dick. The only curve is a slight up , arching back toward his body when he stands straight up. It’s amazing being fucked from behind by Steve because he almost never misses Eddie’s prostate. It’s just an endless hammering that makes his toes go numb and makes him forget how to form coherent speech. God, he’s getting hard again just looking at Steve’s dick. It’s thick, too, he needs at least four fingers to prepare for it and he can just barely get the thing in his throat. And Steve is so sensitive. It drives Eddie fucking crazy knowing that Steve is basically always on the verge of coming when his dick touches basically any part of Eddie.
“Are you worshiping it or are you gonna suck it?” Steve asks with that slight edge that he gets that makes Eddie want to call him Sir. Someday they will talk about that and Eddie will probably spend some time on his knees begging to be spanked by 'Sir' but not today. Today, he needs Steve to fuck up into his mouth while his lips are stretched to capacity around that monster.
Batting his eyelashes, Eddie leans forward and licks the droplet of precome off of the tip, “Mmmm, delicious.”
Steve’s eyes slide closed and he leans back against the wall, staring down at where Eddie is hovering over his erection, “Will you make some of the whip cream when we get home and lick it off of me?”
Eddie has to squeeze his own cock through his jean shorts to keep himself from coming because, fuck fuck fuck, yes, all the yes . He’s gonna make home made whip cream like some kind of housewife and give Steve the sweetest fucking blowjob of his life. Probably give himself a cavity.
He just nods. He can’t answer that right now. Not without embarrassing himself. Leaning in, Eddie suckles the tip of Steve’s cock, swirling his tongue around the fat head before sucking hard and popping off. Steve groans, his hands clutch at nothing on the counter because there’s nothing to grab.
“Fuck, Eddie, please, it’s been so fucking long,” Steve whines, “I need to fuck your mouth.”
Eddie almost shouts his acceptance because, yes, that’s exactly what he wants. Bracing himself against Steve’s thighs with his hands, Eddie takes Steve into his mouth, licking and sucking his way down Steve’s shaft. When Steve bucks up just a little, Eddie moans and digs his fingers into the meat of Steve’s muscled thighs. God, these thighs, that ass, that chest, all of it. He loves all of it. And what’s inside, too. The airhead, the hero, the soft hearted babysitter, the bad taste in music, the jock, all of it. All of this man. Eddie just loves all of Steve.
Pulling off, one long strand of drool connects his lips to Steve’s cock but he doesn’t care, Eddie says, “I love you.” Like it’s the first time he’s said it and not the hundredth.
Steve smiles, soft and sweet, dragging a thumb over Eddie’s wet lips to break the strand of drool, “I love you, too, baby.”
Eddie goes back to work, working his way down Steve’s fat cock until his nose is buried in the short wiry hairs at the base and then he relaxes slowly - his shoulders, his back, his jaw. Steve must feel it all because as soon as Eddie’s throat relaxes around him, Steve grabs the knot at the back of Eddie’s bandana he’d tied around his hair this morning and uses it to pulls his head back a few inches before bucking up into Eddie’s relaxed mouth.
At first it’s just those deep but short thrusts that don’t give Eddie any room to gag around. After half a minute though, Steve pulls Eddie back a little more by the bandana knot so just the bulbous head of his cock is inside the O of his lips before he fucks up with his hips, forcing Eddie’s lips to stretch around the thick shaft and his throat to close reflexively around the big head pushing its way into his esophagus. Before Eddie has a chance to gag, his throat is clear and his lips are pursed around the head of Steve’s cock again. He moans and Steve pushes deep again.
“You’re fucking gorgeous like this,” Steve tells him, guiding Eddie’s head up and down by the knot at the back of his head - and jesus he needs to wear his bandana like this more often. Eddie’s legs feel weak and he’s pretty sure they’re trembling from how he’s bent over Steve’s lap. Under his palms, Steve’s thigh muscles tense and harden with every upward thrust into Eddie’s mouth and his own dick, long recovered and so hard that it almost hurts where he’s folded over it, is threatening to shoot off in his pants like...well, like Steve has made him do before honestly.
“So good for me. All stretched around my cock,” with the thumb on his free hand, Steve wipes at the tears running from Eddie’s watering eyes. “Fucking beautiful. I’m almost there. You’re so good, so–fuck, yeah, goddamn–” As always, and with Eddie’s preconfirmed consent, Steve holds Eddie’s head down, nose pressed against Steve’s pubic bone as he comes, hot and thick down Eddie’s throat. There’s just something about being held down by a person he trusts would never hurt him. It’s euphoric.
Swallowing reflexively, Eddie digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs hard enough that he knows they’ll be ten fingertip shaped bruises left behind and moans desperately around the huge cock in his mouth as he comes in his jean shorts. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. He’ll have to go jump in the lake or something. For now, he taps Steve’s thigh and Steve slowly releases him. His legs are jello so Eddie sinks to the cement floor of the kitchen. His lips feel obscenely stretched at the corners, his throat feels abused, his body is exhausted and he’s got slowly cooling sticky come in his shorts. It’s perfect.
Above him, Steve is still leaning against the wall, spent dick still hanging out of his shorts, like he doesn’t care about jumping down from the counter and cleaning them up just yet. Which is fine. Eddie feels the same. It’s quiet, peaceful, Eddie feels so good–
No music. No shouting. No splashing. No laughter.
He sits up, “Steve, where did everyone–”
The outer door to the mess hall slams open with a loud bang that echoes all the way back into the kitchen. Steve hastily tucks his soft dick into his shorts so quickly that he looks like he’s closing up a fold out couch which makes Eddie want to giggle inappropriately. Now is not the time, Munson, he tells himself with a mental shake. When Steve leaps off the counter and puts his hand out, Eddie allows himself to be pulled up.
There’s a horrible screech that sounds like someone is dragging something metal against the concrete floor and then Camp Director Pam is standing in the doorway where the swinging door is propped open with a little wooden wedge underneath it. She’s covered in blood, her fake smile is gone and in her eyes is a wild unhinged look that they did not encounter with Vecna. He was controlled, emotionless, a sociopath. This is a woman on a crazy mission of some kind.
Steve somehow manages to tuck Eddie behind him without moving, which is good because Eddie reaches behind himself to pull the biggest knife from the block on the counter, slipping the handle into Steve’s waiting hand.
“Mrs. Vorhees, I don’t know what happened but you need to put the axe down,” Steve says in a calming voice. And Eddie hadn’t even noticed the axe at her side. It’s literally dripping blood. There’s a pool forming around the blade of the axe where it’s resting on the ground by her feet and streaks behind her where she’s dragged it along the floor.
“My son, you killed him,” she says, eyes unfocused and bright with some kind of inner crazy.
“We didn’t, we’ve never even met your son,” Steve tells her, his empty hand out in a placating gesture, the one with the knife still hidden behind him between their bodies.
“You filthy kids,” she growls out, “you were drinking, doing drugs - smoking that dope .” She puts far too much emphasis on dope and Eddie has to bite his lips to hold in his giggle. What is wrong with him? He’s about to be murdered and his got drying come in his fucking shorts and a giggle caught in his fucked out throat, get it together Munson . She’s still talking, this time she raises the axe and points at both of them, “Having sex . You think I don’t know? You think I don’t know that all of you horny kids can’t keep it in your pants long enough to do your jobs? You killed him with your sinful ways!”
Ha! Eddie knew it! No sinning at camp or you'll get killed by an axe murderer. If they live, he's going to gloat about this for forever.
She pulls the axe back to her shoulder like she’s about to charge. Steve tenses, Eddie gets ready to scoot away and find some longer kind of weapon that doesn’t require him to be within axing distance when the screen door that’s on the side wall of the kitchen slams open.
A bedraggled looking Robin charges in, screaming, “GAME OVER BITCH!” and cracks Camp Director Pam right in the middle of her face with a…is that a croquet mallet?
Pam goes flying back, smacking her head on the door frame hard enough that she crumples to the ground. Lights clearly out.
Vickie comes to stop in the open doorway behind Robin, breathing ragged, a croquet mallet gripped tight in her hand as well.
There’s a very long silence and then Steve turns to Robin, “Game over? Really?”
Robin glares back at him, “I panicked! It’s hard to think of something cool to say in the face of mortal danger.” Narrowing her eyes, she grins, “You would know–Toddfather.”
Steve sighs, puts his hands on his hips and just breathes out, “Dammit.”
That's it. That's the whole fic. You can read it all the way through on Ao3 at "Five Times Eddie Stops Steve From Getting Them Axe Murdered and the One Time He Doesn't" and don't forget to check out the amazing podfic embedded there too!
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