Hello hello hello! | any pronouns | multifandom | Im just out here posting bullshit | people tend to just call me artist | mostly posting 9-1-1 right now | but hermitcraft and drop out may appear randomly
buck and eddie during the bachelor party too drunk to care if people see them
thank you for inspiring me. enjoy đ
read on ao3
Eddie has the brief thought that this is a bad idea. It flickers through his mind: the anxiety, the doubt, the shame. But it's gone just as fast. Overwhelmed by the liquor that's coursing through his veins, and the burning heat of wantâof needâflaring in his gut.
Buck's hot, wet mouth, gliding down and down and down, taking Eddie to the back of his throat: that's the only thing Eddie knows, the only thing he can feel.
There are eyes watching, probably. There must be, they weren't alone, not when this started. Not when Buck licked a shot out of his belly button to a chorus of drunk, roaring cheersâand then just kept going, licking, sucking, marking a path lower and lower. When he popped a button, pulled a zipper, buried his face into the rock hard bulge of Eddie's briefs.
Somewhere in there Eddie should have stopped, had some sense, considered the consequences. Considered something outside the electric bubble of Buck and Yes and God your mouthâmoaning like he'd never been touched before.
Buck's hair is soft through his fingers where Eddie tugs and strokes at it, guiding his head like he's in charge. But it's Buck at the wheel, Buck with all the control, all of Eddie's sense filling his mouth and making Eddie dumb with the pleasure.
He feels the leather of the couch sticking to his back, damp with sweat, his shirt pushed up around his chest. Sticking and unsticking as Buck bobs his head, messy and eager, gagging on him and barely pulling back to breathe. His fingers dig into the meat of Eddie's ass, perched over him, hunched to take him into his throat as deep as he can go.
It's feral, it's disgusting, depraved, it'sâthe best damn blow job of Eddie's entire life.
Music pulses in his ears, his blood pulses in his head, through his entire body, throbbing in his cock, to the unrelenting rhythm of Buck taking him down like he can't help himself, like he needs it to stay alive.
His throat flutters, he swallows and swallows, spit drooling out around the length of him, the filthy sound of it reverberating through Eddie's core. It rips the orgasm out of him without warning. He spills into Buck's mouth, waves of it filling him up as he greedily drinks it down. Eddie curls into it, his abs flexing, his hands holding Buck there, holding him down, making him take itâletting him take it.
Buck moans like the orgasm's his own.
The bliss that comes after is undisturbed even as awareness filters back in. Eddie remembers the people, remembers the chaos of a bachelor-less bachelor party that became an excuse for him and Buck to let go for a night and have some stupid fun.
Eddie's eyes open, he sees the mess of Buck, the beautiful, wrecked look on his face, with his cheeks flushed, lips swollen and pulled up into a self-satisfied smile.
Eddie's head swims and his heart skips and he pulls Buck up and onto him fully, one hand gripped in his hair to slam their mouths together, teeth and tongues and the remanence of Eddie's cum passed between them, the other hand grasping at his ass to rock him into Eddie's thigh, coaxing out perfect little whimpers onto his tongue.
A beat still pulses, bass thumping, and Eddie rocks Buck to the rhythm.
Once again everything fades away to just Buck. Warmth and safety and the pure, unyielding desire to touch and hold and never let go.
Buck speeds up his hips, breathes into Eddie's mouth, damp heat connecting every inch of them, as he breathes and moans and takes takes takes. Their lips drag together, sticky, pantingâall instinct and desire.
Buck's hips stutter. Eddie's fingers grip harder, and he mumbles mindless encouragements: "come on, come on, that's it, so good, pleaseâŚ"
Buck gasps out, collapses and grinds with slow circles of his hips, as he twitches and comes, the warmth spreading between them.
"Fuck," It's him or it's Buck saying it, the distinction doesn't matter, it vibrates through their chests where they're pressed flush together.
Eddie is well and truly drunk; on alcohol sure, but mostly on Buck. On his touch, his smell, on the beating of his heart in sync with Eddie's. His limbs are buzzing, heavy yet light, floating away from him. Buck's skin is his only anchor. He draws his hands up the back of Buck's shirt to touch and caress, to feel.
The dread should be setting in now, should be taking him away out of the moment and into the realm of panic where he so often finds himself, but it doesn't, he floats. Buck nuzzles himself into the crook of his neck and lets out a huge breath, settling in like he's finally found that thing he's been looking for.
They lay there, tangled, in this strange room, on this strange day, in the wake of a dozen bad decisions, and Eddie takes a breath, buries himself into Buck's hair, pulls him impossibly closer, and let's oblivion take him.
The hangover will be hell, but now, Eddie falls into Buck, content with the landing.
feminist retelling shoulsnt be the woman does some girlboss shit femist retelling is she does the same stuff except u actually give a shit abt her perspective and thoughts and feelings as a human being this time
#these are all so good #iâm always especially appreciative of the # âiâm going to scream. this is going to hurt and i wonât be able to help it. keep going anywayâ # but i think my very favorite is âyouâre going to have to pin me downâ # (also this isnât quite the same feeling but the polite âiâm sorry but i think iâm going to pass out nowâ always delights me) (x)
[ID: tags reading â#other favorite trope: when the group medic has to talk someone else through their own procedure #because they may be the one injured but theyâre also the one with the most knowledge to deal with itâ. /end ID]
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