Work Text:
This is stupid. This is so stupid. This is sooooo stupid.
Steve’s in the worst situation to be freaking out. Naked, face down, under a blanket, in a dimly lit room, with a fine-ass man using the perfect amount of pressure to massage Steve’s hamstrings.
When Robin suggested Steve stop complaining about the muscle he pulled and schedule a “damn massage,” he never never imagined this scenario.
He’s getting turned on.
This is terrible.
So so so so so soooooo terrible.
He’s had plenty of massages over the years. Playing sports had him on a table pretty regularly, but he never chubbed up during any of those.
Maybe it’s because this guy, Eddie he said his name was, is some kind of wizard. Maybe that knot he’s working out is connected to a weird pleasure zone.
Or maybe it’s because it feels incredible, and this man has the best fucking hands anyone has ever put on Steve’s body.
He just needs to take a few deep breaths. Calm down. Then it’ll be fine.
“Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Let’s have you turn over.”
Oh no! Too soon. It’s too soon. Steve’s not calm enough to turn over. Shit. He tries taking a few calming breaths, tries to quickly think of utterly horrendous thoughts but it’s just not enough time.
Maybe the lighting will hide it. He can only hope.
As Steve slowly, awkwardly rolls onto his back, he squeezes his eyes tight. Maybe if he can’t see, Eddie can’t see. That’s how sight works, right?
Eddie removes the headrest while Steve tries to use his long deep breaths to calm down. But, too soon, Eddie’s moving down the table, grabbing Steve’s left leg to pull free from the covering and then hesitating.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Eddie makes a soft restrained awkward sound before clearing his throat and continuing to free Steve’s leg.
There’s no way Steve’s entire face isn’t beet red right now. He's gotta look like a tomato.
“So, uh,” Eddie clears his throat again before continuing the massage on Steve’s quad. “How did you pull it?”
Pull it? He doesn’t mean…?
Oh! The muscle.
“Um, it’s stupid.” Steve murmurs, while continuing to ignore the boner that refuses to go down. The location of Eddie’s magic fingers isn’t helping in any way. “I was playing basketball with, um, my sister’s fiancé. Well, she’s not my—, I mean she is but not by birth— anyway, uh, I used to play in college, a long time ago, um, but I haven’t played since then and I thought I could, I guess. Sorry, I’m rambling. My best friend does that. Rambles. I picked it up from her, apparently. Of all the traits, the rambling trait.” By instinct, Steve tries to lift his hand to cover his face but is stopped by the weight of the blanket. “Shit, sorry. I’ll shut up.”
He’s never coming back here again.
“Hmm,” Eddie chuckles to himself and now Steve feels worse because the dude is laughing at him. Great. “I should’ve guessed.” He says before lowering his voice and mumbling to himself. Steve can only pick up the word ‘predictable’ from the comment.
“What do you mean?” Steve’s eyes are squeezed shut but at least his dick has flagged. Being picked on will do that to a boner.
Before Eddie responds, he leans down, putting his weight into the motion of his arm as it slides across Steve's thigh. “It’s—, it’s your legs. They feel like you use them.” Then Eddie’s next words come out soft and floaty, almost like his thoughts are slipping out of his mouth. “Nice and thick.”
Aaaaand Steve's dick is perking back up. “Oh.”
“Shit, uh. I mean— uh, sports. You have— uh, sports legs.”
Wait. Steve cautiously cracks open his left eye. Eddie’s still massaging Steve’s leg, like he’s on autopilot, but his eyes are locked on Steve’s middle. Actually, locked on Steve’s dick.
Steve clamps his eyes shut again because seeing Eddie ogling him is in fact making the problem bigger. Eddie clears his throat while gliding his hands down Steve’s leg. It still feels astronomical, but Steve is too distracted to focus on the sensation.
He’s known of his bisexuality for years, years, but there’s never been a guy he was all that interested in. He’s made out with a few, but nothing further than that. Not because he’s not into it but they just didn’t do it for him. But apparently, Eddie is doing it for him. Too bad it’s in the middle of a stupid massage at the man’s place of work and not at a bar.
Steve feels like he should apologize. Now that he has definitive proof Eddie’s seen it, he wants to blurt out an ‘I’m sorry.’ This is so inappropriate.
Just as his resolve is milliseconds from crumbling, Eddie twists his leg, turning it out to open Steve's hips. As a result of the new position, Steve’s dick raises slightly like it's on display, and Eddie’s pressing into the side of his thigh like a boner isn't inches from his face.
The pressure is perfect, it hurts but in the same way pressing on a bruise hurts. Steve can’t control a quiet groan bubbling from his throat as Eddie digs into a knot. The mortifying thing is it sounds more like a moan.
Steve’s five seconds away from jumping off this table and racing out of here. Even if he has to wrap the blankets around his midsection, he’ll do it. Fuck his pants and shoes, he’ll figure it out. He doesn’t need his wallet and keys, he’s got a spare set.
He’s never coming back here again. In fact, he’s not even going to drive by the building. He’ll drive miles out of his way if he has to. He will not take the chance of an accidental run in with Eddie ever again.
“I think—I think I got it.” Eddie huffs, fingers gently rubbing over the sore area of Steve’s thigh. “But you, uh, if you need to come back, I’d love to work your body again—I mean, work on your body, nope, work your— he-help you out.” He clears his thought and awkwardly slides Steve’s leg back in place before moving onto the other leg.
Oh god.
Steve forgot he had another leg. That glimmer of light at the end of this uncomfortable tunnel just got sucked back into the distance. All the fumbling Eddie just maneuvered through nearly flies past Steve because of his second-leg realization. But when Eddie lifts Steve to tuck the sheet under him, his brain finally registers the endearing struggle.
Wait.
Does he have a shot at this?
His embarrassment was clouding the signals. But he needs to test the waters, in case he completely misread the situation.
He takes a deep breath and then responds. "Y-yeah, you can..." Is he really going to say it? "Work... on my body... whenever you want?" Apparently, he will say it.
His voice cracks at the end, making it more of a question, but if Eddie doesn't pick up what Steve is putting down, it'll give him the out. His cheeks are flaming hot. He can feel them burning on his face. It's a bold fucking move to flirt with a man rubbing his hands on your naked form while you're presenting a stiffy. But Steve is nothing but an opportunist.
Eddie's fingers immediately still. He's mid-press, halfway through a full roll across Steve's quad. It's a weird sensation on Steve's skin, like his body knows there should be more but Eddie's not moving.
When he stays that way, a little too long, Steve knows he has to check on the guy. He’s mentally calculating how much money he needs for an apology tip. But, when Steve peers up at Eddie, he doesn't look disgusted. He's chewing on his bottom lip clearly contemplating his next step, but his eyes keep darting to the upper corner of the room.
When Steve glances up, positioned perfectly above them, is a small black camera.
Oh fucking hell. Of course. Of course.
This is a place of business and they want to ensure no one harasses their staff. And yet, here's Steve offering his body up on a platter.
He's taking this interaction to the grave. Not a peep. No one, not even Robin, will hear a single damn word about this entire thing.
"Y'know...for like my next, uh, massage. A massage. It's just— you're, uh, you're good at your job. Massaging."
SHUT UP. For the love of god, Steven Marie Harrington, shut your fucking mouth.
Oh great, Robin has me yelling at myself with the wrong middle name.
That thought causes him to snort. Just a tiny chuckle of a sound. He feels like a complete buffoon. Which only makes this worse because the snort causes him to laugh. Now he’s spiraling, and having a full blown giggle fit.
There’s no way Eddie will want to see him again in any capacity after this.
"A-are you okay?" Eddie asks cautiously.
"Yeaah, " Steve murmurs. "Just yelling at myself with the wrong middle name, and feeling like a total jackass.” He should cut this short, let them both keep a semblance of dignity. “Uh, you know what? We can stop. I’m sorry.” He slips his arms free from the blankets and starts to shift himself up.
“W—what?” Eddie lifts his hands and stands there like he doesn’t know what to do.
“I know you saw my dick, man.” Steve awkwardly waves at his now not hard dick. “I didn’t mean to— that was not cool. My dick. It wasn’t cool. It just… it’s been awhile, I guess. Just felt really good.” He sighs. “Obviously. But, uh, I feel like this is—we’re good, here. Right?”
Eddie takes a nervous step back, hands still raised, and watches Steve as he continues to get up. Steve’s clutching the blankets over his crotch, and trying to reach for his clothes, folded on the chair beside the table.
“What are you doing? We’re not—I’m not—“ Eddie grabs at the edge of the blanket, tugging on it like he wants Steve to stay in place.
“Yeah, I—I know, but it’s fine. I’m going to get dressed, uh, if you wanna… leave? Stay? I don’t— whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
His fingers finally grab the hem of his shirt. His ass is almost out with how far he’s leaning over and the sheet still tucked beneath his right leg. But he only needs one more inch to reach his boxers.
Why didn’t he swing his legs off the table?
“No! Dude, stop. We still have—,” Eddie glances at the clock on the wall. “Twenty minutes. It’s fine, it happens.”
Steve can feel Eddie yanking on the sheet, but he’s not sure if the guy is trying to free it from Steve’s legs or get him to lay down.
“It’s okay. You’ll… get a break!” Steve tries to smile but when he feels himself slipping off the table, the smile morphs into a gasp, and he’s losing his balance. “Shit!” He yelps as he topples to the floor, bringing the blanket and sheet with him.
Eddie scrambles around the table, rushing to Steve’s side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
Before replying, Steve thunks his forehead a couple of times on the floor.
It’s official, his ass is hanging out.
There’s not much of a breeze but there’s air hitting places it shouldn’t.
“I’m… great. I’m just wondering how much traffic is around here… for me to walk out into.” He says with a sigh before rolling onto his back, tangling himself even further with the fabric.
Steve looks up, Eddie’s scanning his eyes over his body like he’s searching for injuries. When he must assume Steve’s physically okay, he makes eye contact with Steve and tries to hide a smile.
“Just laugh, man.” Steve shrugs awkwardly. Might as well yuck it up. “Look at me.”
“Oh,” Eddie raises an eyebrow. “I did. Still nice and thick.” He’s chuckling but Steve’s heart is pounding against his ribs. Does he mean his ass or did his dick fall out during that disaster? “Let me help you up.” Eddie reaches his hand out, offering it to Steve, who eyes it warily. “Or do you want to stay down there until our time is truly up?”
All that tension, all that awkwardness hasn’t completely evaporated but has fizzled. Steve sighs casually, crossing his ankles and bringing his arms up behind his head. He looks around the room, and nods like he’s checking it out.
“It’s pretty comfy down here. Maybe I will stay. I bet you’ve never seen the bottom of your table.” Steve angles his head to purposefully glance underneath. “It’s… not that cool.” He says just before blurting out a laugh.
He was trying to play it cool but he’s buck ass naked, tangled in some sheets, lying on the floor, after mooning this very fine ass masseuse. It doesn’t take long before Eddie joins in. The two of them laughing like this isn’t insane. Eddie plops onto the edge of the table, feet nudging into Steve’s leg. Steve plops a forearm over his eyes, trying to prevent this laughter from turning into actual tears.
“But like… are you really okay?” Eddie asks, wiping a knuckle under his eye.
“Me? I’m fiiiine.” Steve draws out the word. “Humiliated? Yes. Mortified? Most definitely. Will I ever step foot in this building again? Not on your life. But otherwise? I’m peachy keen.” He slides his arm down, dragging his hand across his face and pinching his nose.
“Never?” Eddie asks quietly.
Steve drops his hand to stare dead into Eddie’s eyes. It’s gotta look ridiculous since Steve’s still sprawled on the floor. “Would you? First, I get an inopportune boner from the very cute guy doing his job. Sorry, by the way. Second, I moaned. You heard it. I moaned. Third,” he’s counting each terrible thing off on his fingers. “I kinda hit on you. At your place of work! You don’t come to work to deal with creeps. I’m an asshole.” He throws his arms up, gravity bringing them back to his sides. “Fourth, I try and bolt and I fall onto the ground. Fifth, my ass was out for you and that damn camera to see.” He punctuates his words by pointing to the tiny mocking device. “So? Would you? Come back?”
Eddie inhales deep, hands sliding behind him to lean back on the table, feet digging deeper into Steve’s leg. He rocks his head back and forth, hair swishing around, like he’s truly contemplating the situation. Steve wishes he didn’t notice how biteable Eddie’s neck looks from this angle.
God he’s pathetic.
“But, Steve? What about the sixth thing?” Eddie angles his head to smirk at Steve.
“Wh-what sixth thing?” Steve can feel his stomach drop.
Oh god, what else happened? Did he do more than moon the man when he fell off the table?
“Sixth, the masseuse really enjoyed seeing and hearing you respond to his touch. To the point he almost forgot he was at work. Nearly risked it all to offer you a hand… or two hands? It looked like I might’ve needed two.” Eddie’s still smirking, but Steve can see a wobble in his lip like he’s nervous.
Steve clears his throat and attempts to subtly tug more fabric over his crotch. Just in case.
“Seventh, I’d work on your body…for free.” Eddie cuts his eyes away from Steve and from this angle he thinks he sees Eddie blushing.
“Really?” The only reason he sounds so uncertain is because he’s still on the floor.
Eddie shrugs. “And this was before I saw your ass. Now? I’d consider paying you.”
Steve can’t help but chuckle. “Shut up. That’s stupid.”
There’s no response from Eddie, just an awkward silence growing between them. At least this time it’s not also filled with Steve’s shame.
“You gonna get up, big boy?” Eddie offers his hand again.
Steve stares at it for a second. It’s not like he can stay down on the ground forever. Then before he can talk himself out of it he reaches up and lets Eddie help him to his feet. He keeps a strong grip on the sheet covering his junk though, just in case.
Eddie glances at the clock on the wall, keeping his hand around Steve’s. “We have 15 minutes left?”
“Yeaaah…” Steve stretches the word out nervously. He’s still dreadfully embarrassed.
“How about this.” Eddie tugs Steve closer to the table so he leans against it by his side. “How about you throw your clothes on, and we use the time to plan our first date?”
Steve feels his cheeks immediately flush and he tries to bite back a smile. This man is going to be Steve’s kryptonite, he can already tell. He nods and nudges his blanket covered knee against Eddie’s. “Deal.”
Eddie smiles wide, and Steve gets to appreciate the deepest dimples he’s ever seen.
“Deal.”