sorry SORRYRSYORRY i am very late but but but
🪑🪑🪑 please and thank?????
Charlie, I am SO sorry this took forever. I got stuck on this fic and fell into a bit of a writing slump these past few weeks. As an apology—and a thank you for your patience—I’ve roughly doubled the number of sentences you requested for this snippet. ❤️
At Buck’s suggestion, Eddie takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes before they start. As he tosses his work shirt into the hamper, he tries not to think about the way Buck’s voice had dipped when he’d said, “I’ll wait for you in the living room”—that low note of dominance tugging at his navel as the dynamic between them stirred to life.
Eddie doesn’t sub much. Of his previous partners, Shannon and Marisol had both been switches, like him—Ana the lone full submissive—but Eddie grew up in a world where men were expected to be dominant providers (unless they were like that). To step up. Be a good brother and a good man. Lead the household from a place of strength. It’s the role Eddie’s been playing his entire life, if not the one that comes most naturally to him.
Which isn’t to say that Eddie never switches. At his core, it’s who he is. But it’s not the same, laying down and showing his belly for a woman versus doing it for a man—regardless of whether sex is involved. It’s the divide between a beautiful girl putting pink, fuzzy handcuffs on you in the heat of the moment versus getting real cuffs slapped on you while an officer shoves you into the back of their car. Vulnerability always wears different when it’s paired with a physical threat.
Eddie might be good at yes-sirring and taking orders when he has to, but he’s a little too proud to keep himself out of trouble when someone tries to put a boot to his throat. (Figuratively speaking, anyway.) He’s always been a hair too reactive, too eager to shove back. It’s hard to temper that instinct—even with someone he trusts.
And he does trust Buck, fundamentally so. Eddie repeats this to himself like a mantra as he walks into the living room. He feels raw where he’s scrubbed himself clean, made himself ready for inspection. Buck’s a big guy with a ton of muscle, sure, but he’d never use that against Eddie. He’d never hurt him—not like that.
Eddie finds Buck sitting on the couch. His legs are spread, his back straight and a little stiff against the cushions. He’s toying with the frayed threads from the hole in the knee of his jeans. It’s not necessarily a sign of nerves—Buck’s a fidgeter in general, needs to be in constant motion—but something about the gesture settles the anxious flutter in Eddie’s stomach.
“You’re sure about this?” Buck asks as Eddie crosses towards him. The overhead light is off, side table lamps throwing shadows across the floor. There’s a pillow at the edge of the light—off to the side of Buck’s legs rather than between them, which… yeah. Makes sense. Eddie hesitates only a moment before sinking to his knees on it.
Flashing a grin that’s way more cocky than he feels, he says, “Show me what you’ve got.”
