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Eddie knew the moment that he named his favorite dildo that it was going to come back to haunt him. Sure, he didn’t know how, but he figured that a) having a favorite dildo and b) forming such a strong attachment to said dildo that you gave it a name was the kind of thing that just invited humiliation. Not karma or the universe or a jinx, but when you name your dildo, you start thinking of it by name, and after that you’re certain to mention “having plans with Evan” and then you’re stuck explaining that no, Evan wasn’t your boyfriend, he was the 9.5-inch piece of silicon you used to replace a boyfriend.
The thing is, Evan is a really nice dildo. Long and thick, with this perfect little curve that gets him right up against Eddie’s prostate. Once Eddie used him, he lost all interest in any other toy. After a certain point, he felt it was disrespectful not to name it.
The moment he walked into Firehouse 118 and Bobby mentioned “Evan Buckley, but everyone calls him Buck”, Eddie thought that this was it, this was how the shame would get him. He’d slip up and then everyone would think he named a sex toy after a coworker. When he actually met Buck, the friendly loyalty of a golden retriever wrapped up in a blond beefcake body, with a startling streak of pain buried in his eyes, such an accident became a near-certainty. Buck was exactly his type.
But no. It got so much worse.
In the back of his mind, Eddie had always wondered about the finances of the Buckley siblings. Neither of them were extravagant, but . . come on. Public servants affording places as nice as theirs in Los Angeles? There had to be some other source of income. Maddie, it turned out, had an inheritance from their grandmother who’d gotten in on Netflix on the ground floor, but Buck had never met his grandparents. Unwilling to lie about Daniel, it seemed.
Eddie had worked the bag extra hard that day, seeing Buck break at how his parents not only didn’t love him, but actively kept him away from people who did.
Still, he never gave Buck’s ridiculously nice loft too much thought, figuring the answer lay somewhere in Buck’s backpacking years and shrugging it off. It couldn’t be that interesting of a story.
Oh, how wrong he was.
It was any other Tuesday when Eddie had stopped by to pick Buck up for a shift. His jeep was in the shop, and it was just as easy to pick him up as for Buck to take an Uber. As Eddie waited, Buck frantically tying his boots after one too many hits of the snooze button, something on Buck’s coffee table caught his eye.
“Hey Buck?” He called out. “Why do you have a letter and a very large check from Love Handyl, Inc?”
Buck came up behind him and grabbed the check. “Thanks for reminding me; I gotta deposit that. Uh, this is for royalties and the letter is wanting permission to change the name of my dildo. Apparently, they found out I’m a firefighter and want to rename it the Firehose.”
Eddie was sure he hadn’t heard that right. “I’m sorry. Your dildo? What makes it your dildo”
Buck smiled as he held the door open. “It’s molded from my dick!”
Eddie spent the entire shift trying desperately to convince himself that meant nothing. Sure, Evan was a Love Handyl product, but that meant nothing. The odds of that being a silicon recreation of his best friend’s dick was, what 20 to 1? There was no way.
After the end of shift, Eddie caved and checked their website.
The Magic Dick, whom Eddie had christened Evan, was now renamed the Firehose.
Eddie tried to not believe in things like karma or curses, but that? That about broke him.
The next three weeks were Eddie’s personal hell. He’d buried any feelings for Buck beyond brotherly affection since the day they met. Between his new job, being a single dad, and his marriage that still existed, the last thing he needed was a complicated romance with a coworker. So he’d done what anyone would do and shoved any desire for a romantic or sexual relationship with the sexy blond who was sweet as sugar and so love-hungry it hurt down into the black void of his soul, and there those feelings stayed for three years.
Alas, the revelation that his favorite dildo not only shared Buck’s name but was molded on his cock brought them rushing back to the surface. Eddie found himself struggling to follow the unspoken but all-important locker room commandment of “Thou Shalt Not Look”, not helped by how Buck has no sense of modesty and a fondness for the helicopter dick. He was short-tempered, abrasive, and by the end of week three, even Buck had asked Eddie who pissed in his cornflakes.
And the cherry on top? He couldn’t jerk off.
Well, he could. But ever since he learned of Evan’s origins, using it just felt wrong, like he was taking advantage of his best friend. Which was stupid, because Buck knew about the dildo, and apparently was well-paid for it. And he tried using other dildos, but it wasn’t the same. He just felt unsatisfied, and the knowledge that the original model was right there was not helping anything.
It is this combination of guilt and pent-up sexual frustration that Eddie blames for his eventual breakdown. He had gone over to Buck’s for a guys night in, a chance to drink more than one beer and watch something that wasn’t made for kids while Chris was at Abuela’s . (Except they still ended up watching Coco because it makes them feel things.)
And there, in the light of singing skeletons and feeling the effects of Buck’s surprisingly good bourbon, was when Eddie broke under the weight of his secrets and blurted out “I’ve had one of your dildos for years. It’s my favorite. I named it.”
Buck simply raised an eyebrow, the arch drawing Eddie’s eye back to his perfect little birthmark. “Yeah, I know.”
Eddie almost deflated at that. Buck knew ? How did he know? More importantly, how did he not care that his best friend used a fake copy of his junk to get off?
Apparently, Eddie’s confusion was all over his face as well as his thought patterns, because Buck just chuckled. “You keep your sex toys in the same drawer as your spare phone charger.”
His face felt so red, Eddie would bet money Buck would have to use the fire extinguisher to put out the inevitable flames.
The other man waved a hand at him. “It’s fine, man. Going by the royalty checks, a lot of people have one. No need to be embarrassed.”
“It’s just so perfect.” Eddie wasn’t sure what made him start talking, but he wished he knew, so that he could stop. “I have never had a dick, real or fake, that felt so right before. It’s big without being too big, so thick I feel it the next day but not so much it's painful and god, that bend. It gets right there , you know? Right where I need it. It’s like I’m Goldicocks, and your dick is just right.”
Buck looked absolutely gobsmacked, but Eddie kept going, completely at the mercy of his own mouth. “And it doesn’t help that I’m in love with you. I wanted you the moment we met, but when you drove me to get Chris after the earthquake, I was a goner. Shannon, Ana, they’ve all been band-aids over the gaping Buck-shaped hole in my heart, and they didn’t work, so I figured I’d just be alone forever with Evan the dildo, except Evan is you!”
The silence was deafening for a few minutes, before Buck steeled himself enough to speak. “Did. . . did you name your dildo after me?”
“No, I named him before--” Eddie started, only to be cut off.
“Because I named mine after you.” Buck confessed. “I’ve been in love with you since the bombing. When I opened my eyes the second time and saw you sitting there, and I didn’t wonder where Ali was, because the person I needed most was already there.” His voice stayed steady, but Eddie could hear the crack of pain as he laid his soul bare, the wound from a lifetime of being unwanted and the disbelief that he wasn’t anymore.
Neither of them were.
“Just to recap,” Eddie said, his eyes locked on Buck’s stunning blues “I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me. My favorite dildo is molded from your dick, and we’re childfree for another twelve hours.”
The two held their gaze for another five seconds before bolting from the couch and up to Buck’s bed, wherein Eddie learned that as perfect as Evan the Magic Dick was, the real thing was a million times better.