7 Works by rasberrybush
Listing Works
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Summary
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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 want—of need—flaring 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 cheers—and 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.
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prompt: buck and eddie during the bachelor party too drunk to care if people see them
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Buck is here, now, in the early morning light, right next to Eddie; warm and soft, blanket tucked up to his chin. Eddie rolls his head to the side and blinks his eyes open to watch him, peaceful as he is, face lax, mouth wide open to free rhythmic snores, which rumble through the sheets and steady something that has been teetering in Eddie’s chest. He’s perfect, exactly where he’s meant to be, beautiful and alive and within arms reach. Eddie is overcome with it, and he feels a sudden urge to cry. It’s not sadness—because what could he have to be sad about with his son down the hall from him again, safe and happy to be there, and his best friend next to him, sleeping like he doesn’t have a care in the world—no, he’s not sad. The tears that want to fall are the work of love, simple, overflowing, and trying to break free.
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Eddie comes back from Texas, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. They are in love.
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Eddie's first coherent thought is, ridiculously: Where has he been storing that thing? Under the bed? In the back of the closet? Something that big, Eddie would have been paranoid about someone finding it. They have a kid in the house! Not that Buck isn't allowed to own a sex toy. Eddie's not a prude he just—wow, that thing is big, and Buck is pumping it in and out of himself with a practiced confidence that's scrambling Eddie's brains and igniting a fire of jealousy so hot and bright in his gut that he doesn't know what to do with it.
He should stop watching, stop staring, transfixed, by the regular rhythm of it: in and out and in and out, slow, teasing, a twist in his wrist for every push and pull.
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Eddie & Buck in their roommates era and Eddie walks in on Buck ten inches deep. They fuck nasty about it.
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“Buck!” His voice echoed through the space, louder than he had anticipated, especially because he hadn’t intended to say anything at all. His brain had completely taken a backseat, and the tequila in his veins had made it too easy to hand the wheel over to instinct.
After a few minutes, of which Eddie lost track, Buck came padding down the stairs. His eyes were squinting with interrupted sleep, his hair a mess of rumpled curls, and Eddie had to take a deep breath.
Buck was wearing only a thin t-shirt that clung tightly to his stomach, ending before reaching his boxers and leaving a gap of soft belly exposed. Eddie huffed out a rush of air as he took in the sight of his best friend. He was angry at how quickly it flooded over him: that confirmation of want. The thing that just a few hours ago had him waking up a sweaty mess, rutting into his bedsheets and gasping to the fading images of Buck writhing underneath him.
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Eddie wants Buck. He finally does something about it.
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“Please, just talk to me…”
The crack in his voice would break Eddie’s heart; if there was anything left to break.
“I can’t do this Buck—” His voice is thick, straining out of him, “I can’t. I just…I just…” He has to stop, to pull in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want you here.”
He doesn’t mean it. As it’s coming out, he knows that it's not true. It hurts to form the words, and he can feel the hole in his chest growing bigger as he even considers Buck’s absence, but he can’t take it. He can’t endure the pain of Chris’ leaving with Buck’s eyes trained on his every move. That angel of mercy, radiating devotion, wouldn’t let him sink into the abyss of hurt that’s trying to swallow him whole, and he needs it, he needs it to take him. He needs to atone.
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Christopher leaves, the door shuts, Eddie cracks open, spirals, falls, hates himself. Buck is there to pick up the pieces. No matter how hard Eddie tries to stop him. (They are in love with each other)
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His gaze started to lower, achingly slow, to the full, soft pink lips that were inches away from his own. He had a revelation then, and maybe it was obvious, but he realized that Buck was truly beautiful.
He had to snap himself out of his reverie, because Buck’s searing blue eyes were once again locked onto him. Eddie looked away, suspiciously quick, a flustered smile taking over his expression. He couldn’t explain it; the feeling that flooded his body and made him weak in the knees. He didn’t want to pick at it too closely, scared of what he might uncover; he didn’t want to think about what it would mean if he wanted…if he was allowed to want…
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Buck and Eddie end up slow dancing at madney's wedding reception after Chim gets out of the hospital. They come to some realizations. Feelings happen.
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"We should, uh, probably go to bed." Eddie spoke into his lap, unwilling or unable to look back up into those deep blue eyes, heavy with sleep and something else that Eddie couldn't quite read.
"Right, yeah. I– I guess I should head back to the loft." Buck stuttered out with a sigh.
Neither of them moved. They stayed silent for a beat, waiting for something— they weren't sure what.
Eddie took in a breath, his chest rising and falling, and on the exhale came an apprehensive "...stay."
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Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley are in love. That's a fact. When they finally catch up to what the rest of us know, there won't be some huge bubble that bursts, no dams will break open. It will be quiet and easy. It will feel like breathing.