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Summary
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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.