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Summary
“Fuck, Eddie. What do you want?”
What does he want?
Eddie can barely think past the shape of Buck’s cock filling his jeans and how it feels tightly pressed against his. How much he likes it. How he wants to give into the primal, carnal need to move.
He rocks his hips down again, drinking in Buck’s answering moan as it spills into his mouth. “Anything,” he tells him, low and honest. “God, Buck, anything.”
_Eddie allows himself to seek out joy—and it arrives unexpectedly on his doorstop with an achingly familiar face.
OR
Eddie is gay. Tommy sucks. Buck and Eddie frot about it on the couch.