hi i've never done this before so idk if i'm doing this right or if you even take suggestions 😭 i just saw this tiktok and instantly thought of your paramedic steve story and felt like you could probably execute some sort of oneshot/series based on it
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRpKYet8/
like i really just wanna see steve being a groupie that's all.
I've never said I don't take suggestions 👀
Anon, I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting. I wanted to finish the main story before doing this. It's been in the back of my mind since you sent it, though.
It's kinda filthy; not sure if that's what you wanted, but considering the connotations the word "groupie" has... I hope you like this.
If Eddie were to make a list of things that make him happy, performing would be near the top. Any kind of performing would do – anything that has him at the center, an audience eating out of his hand – but music is the one he keeps returning to. He could probably do this for real, for a living.
It's just a shame about the fuckery connected to it.
Like, the performance? The thrashing around on stage, the screaming until it hurts, the bone-rattling volume of the music and the crowd? Perfect. Beautiful. Spectacular.
But the business side of it? Makes him want to puke.
He wants to create without capitalism. Entertain without exploitation. Touring sounds fun; stress does not. Interacting with fans could be great if he didn't know how crazy some people got around their idols. They're not even famous now, but sometimes he'll notice repeat visitors in the crowd and wonder if their awestruck expression is innocent or if they're plotting how to kidnap him, skin him alive, and wear him as a bathrobe.
He's not actually worried, okay? He's just wondering. All of the 'fans' he's talked to after shows are nice and normal (well, normal for his standards); he wouldn't mind speaking with most of them again.
Eddie especially wouldn't mind a post-show convo with the front-row hottie to his left. He looks out of place, hair too short to headbang with and dressed in a sleeveless navy button-up rather than a band shirt, but that's how Eddie likes 'em.
When the bass solo hits, he falls to his knees in front of the hottie. Sends him a winning smile that's returned ten times over. Don't tell anyone, but the kneeling was a strategic decision – no way could Eddie meet those gorgeous, hazel eyes directly without swooning. At least not when he's already incensed, dick half-hard from the adrenaline rush.
Some kids who aren't old enough to be in a bar shriek at the proximity to him, but Eddie ignores them. Right now, until the bass solo is over, the only ones who matter are him and Steve.
Steve puts his hands on the stage and pushes, heaving himself off the ground. Not enough to get on the stage, just to bring him another inch into Eddie's space. Eddie closes the distance, leaning in so their foreheads touch. His hair falls forward, curtaining them from the noise and the lights. Their breaths mingle, Eddie's as heavy pants and Steve's as calm puffs. Steve tilts his head, and Eddie prepares for a kiss. He gets no lips, only tongue; Steve licks his mouth, from one corner to the other. Eddie's own tongue darts out, flicking his tip at Steve's. Steve chuckles, throaty and full, and Eddie goes from half-hard to aching.
The solo finishes. Eddie throws himself backward, back hitting the grimy floor, and shreds while thrusting his hips into his Sweetheart.
When he looks back up, the crowd is wild, his band is killing, and Steve is resting his elbows on the stage, staring at Eddie with a grin and a wanton gleam in his eyes.
After the gig, and after packing their shit in the car, they head back inside. One step past the threshold and someone tries trapping him in a conversation. Always dependable, Gareth slips between and takes the hit, allowing Eddie to make a beeline for the bar where Steve is waiting.
He sides up beside Steve, who doesn't acknowledge him. No, he stays cool, casually leaning against the counter, fingers wrapped around a sweating beer bottle, the length of his neck on display as he drinks. His shirt is juuuuuust verging on too small, the fabric taut across his chest and the buttons begging for mercy when he squares his shoulders.
Eddie orders his own beer, downs half in preparation, and says, "So."
Steve glances at him, brow raising as he licks stray droplets from his bottom lip. Eddie's by-now-calmed cock twitches. What a fucking tease.
"Did you like the show?"
"Yeah, man, you were great," Steve says, turning his body toward Eddie, wearing a coquettish smile.
"Not sure I've seen you here before. I think I'd remember you." Eddie runs a finger over the frayed edge of the button-up's armhole. He resists touching Steve's bicep – he can show restraint, too! "You stand out."
"I'm new to the scene. Think I need someone to show me the ropes." Steve slides nearer, enough to murmur and still be heard. "Do you know anyone willing?"
Eddie takes a quick scan of the place, thoughtful hum included. He shrugs. "Me?"
"You'd do that?"
"Sure. I'm at your service," he says with a little bow. "Tell me what you're most curious about and we'll start from there."
"I want to know… how do I get closer to the hot, local musicians?"
There are mere inches between them. On top of the bar's stuffiness, heat radiates off Steve's body. His warmth and the spicy scent of his cologne hit Eddie like a train. His head spins with hazy sensations.
"How close do you want to get?" he asks, breathless.
"As close as you let me. I mean," Steve tucks a lock behind Eddie's ear, leaning in to whisper, "isn't the rockstar lifestyle all about taking the prettiest groupie to the backroom and making them suck you off?"
Eddie swallows half his tongue. When Steve said he was going to proposition him after the show, Eddie expected flirting followed by a 'let's get out of here, your place or mine?'. He didn't see the offer of semi-public sex coming. It's one of those things he's fantasized about but never had the chance to do. Steve must've done it before, though. Probably dozens of times. Fuck, that's so hot.
"Well, I'm not really a rockstar yet-" he says quickly, matching the pace his brain goes at the image of Steve's lips wrapping around him with the buzz of a crowd just a room over.
Steve sighs fondly. "Eddie..."
"-and this place doesn't exactly have a backroom, so-"
"They have a restroom, don't they?" Steve interrupts.
"Oh, uh, yep. They sure do."
Steve smiles, and then he's gone. Eddie finishes his beer and takes a couple of deep breaths before following.
The Behemoth's restroom is actually two small, single-occupancy rooms. Room number one has its door wide open and is empty. Room number two's door is ajar; when Eddie nudges it, Steve yanks him inside and crowds him against the sink.
"Oh, babe, your awkward ramblings and weird behavior really turn me on," he says with zero inflection as he locks the door.
Eddie frowns. "Don't be rude. I won't teach you anything unless I'm shown my due respect."
"I'm sorry, sir," Steve says, using his 'paramedic voice', and smirks at Eddie sucking a sharp breath between his teeth. It's cheating. He knows what that voice does to Eddie. "Let me prove how much I respect you."
He drops to his knees and unbuckles Eddie's belt with smooth, quick hands, eyes focused on the task. Eddie grips the sink behind him for support.
"Have you done this before? In public, I mean."
"Yeah. Have you?"
"Nope. That's a 'no' on that one, chief."
"Nice. I love being people's first," Steve says, tugging Eddie's jeans and boxers down in one go.
Eddie would shoot back with something clever, if his brain hadn't whited out by Steve unceremoniously taking Eddie's whole cock into his mouth, just like that. The only sound he manages is a squeak that morphs into a moan as Steve slowly deepthroats him.
He should be used to the maddening pace by now – Steve always goes slow at the start – yet here he is, fingers cramping and hips trembling as he stops himself from thrusting. It's just so fucking good, the best he's ever had. Part of it is technique, but an equally huge part is enthusiasm – Steve likes this so much. He loves making Eddie fall apart no matter the place or position. Happy to please and smug about being so good at it. It could be infuriating, if Eddie had enough solid brain cells left to feel anything other than bliss.
The tip of Steve's nose touches his pubes now, his cockhead all the way down in Steve's throat. Steve sighs, his breath tickling, and swallows around Eddie. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks in the dim light. From this angle, his eyes look bigger, deeper, prettier when he looks up at Eddie. His tongue, pressed flat against the underside of the shaft, sweeps playfully as he pulls back. Like a French kiss on his cock, fuck.
Heat prickles across Eddie's face and neck; his breaths stutter and his jaw hangs slack. Steve puts his large hands on Eddie's thighs and starts bobbing his head, cheeks hollowing. Whimpering, Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his head, just to feel the silky hair. Oh, to be allowed to fuck into that perfect mouth… but he's not. No thrusting unless given explicit permission, and never any pushing. Steve hates being 'trapped' and 'having his airways obstructed'. The way he said it hints at a story, but he hasn't told and Eddie won't ask. Steve will let him know when it's time. As of now, Eddie is simply grateful he gets to know Steve doesn’t want to choke when sucking his cock.
Steps clomp outside the restroom – someone is walking down the corridor. Shit, did they lock the door? Yes. Yes, Steve did. And the first room is unoccupied, so there's no reason for anyone to try entering here. Well, no reason for a rational person, but humans can be surprisingly irrational. Maybe they'll decide they want this restroom, closed door be damned.
Steve bobs faster, hand squeezing the base where his mouth doesn't quite reach. He's relaxed, eyes shut and moaning with contentment. The vibrations of his voice would be enough to have Eddie fighting to last, if he wasn't currently tearing in half.
On the one hand, he has an Adonis kneeling in front of him, eagerly giving him head. On the other hand, someone one thin door away might soon be interrupting said head. Or worse: discover it. He and Steve would be the ones in trouble then, wouldn't they? Even though they're only semi-publicly indecent. Eddie's been arrested and charged once, for a bullshit reason by malevolent cops. The hours in jail were bad, but the aftermath was worse since the bail money put a serious dent in their budget. The point is that Eddie doesn't want a repeat. Shit, what's the penalty for public indecency in Indiana?
"D'you know what's the penalty for public indecency?" he asks. Steve's eyes snap open; his head stills. "Is it jail, is it a fine, or is it jail and a fine?"
Steve pulls off, and, oh, air on spit-damp cock is always an interesting feeling. He frowns at Eddie, wiping drool off his chin.
"Why are you asking me this now?"
Eddie gestures between them. Steve rolls his eyes.
"No, yeah, I know, but why are you asking me this now?"
Outside, the door to the first restroom closes. Crisis averted, then. Steve doesn’t seem to have noticed there was a potential crisis. Best not to tell him – why should both worry about nothing?
Eddie shrugs. "I'm curious. Maybe risk assessment is a kink of mine."
Steve blinks at him. He inhales deeply, his face starting to contort before he hides it in his hands. Shit, did Eddie piss him off? Pretty typical of… wait, no. That's not angry-trembling.
It's laughter.
"Steve," Eddie says, smiling at Steve doubling over with mirth. "Stevie. Darling love."
The peals of laughter continue, echoing in the tiny room. It's adorable, but also audible. They'll definitely be found out like this.
"Steve, my dick's getting cold."
Steve brays out the next one. He slaps a hand over his mouth and thumps his head against Eddie's bare thigh. Happy snorts spill past his fingers, his body convulsing.
"Maybe we should continue this later," Eddie says.
"No!" Steve shoots upright, holding out his hands. "Just gimme a minute…"
Giggling, he wipes tears from his eyes. Gradually, his breathing evens out. He nods.
"Okay, I'm good," he says and grabs Eddie's softening cock, lapping up the drying precome with a swirl of his tongue.
Eddie groans, slumping against the sink. "Dude, unfair. How can you go from sounding like a donkey to this in seconds?"
"Don't complain," Steve says, pinching Eddie's leg.
"I'm no- oooooh!"
Eddie shouts. He's back to full mast, because Steve just took one of his testes in mouth and is sucking on it like it's a jawbreaker. Screw the penalty – this is worth a life sentence.
Letting go with a wet pop, Steve returns his attention to Eddie’s cock. Ember eyes pin Eddie in place as Steve sucks on the cockhead, tongue playing with the slit, pushing and pulling at the foreskin, caressing the vein on the underside. His hand cups Eddie's balls, gently rolling them between calloused fingers. Eddie's knees are buckling, the sink his only support, and he throws his head back, mewling and panting. Steve rubs a knuckle against Eddie's taint, and that's it – he comes with a whine, spilling onto Steve's tongue. He swallows, of course. Holy fucking Christ, Eddie loves him.
As he recovers, Steve tucks him in and zips him up. Steve is still hard, but he makes no indication he'll deal with it yet. Eddie has a feeling they'll sneak out and take care of him at Eddie's place.
"Fun, wasn't it?" Steve asks, standing up and wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist.
"Yeah." Eddie rests against his solid frame. "M'sorry."
"For what?"
"I'm sorry you have to put up with me."
Grinning, Eddie tilts his head up, lips puckered. Steve kisses him, smiling into it.
