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Buck's kitchen smelled like sage, rosemary, butter, and pure chaos- mostly because Eddie has been utterly useless for the last 20 minuets
He's supposed to be chopping celery.
He's not.
He's standing there with a knife in his hand staring at Buck like Buck is the main course.
Buck finally turns around from the stove and catches him. Really catches him.
"Eddie," Buck says slow and dangerous. "What's going on int at head of yours?"
Eddie jolts like he's been caught stealing. "Nothing, I'm fine."
Buck steps closer.
Eddie's breath stutters.
"Baby," Buck says, voice deep enough to rattle Eddie's bones. "you're cutting imaginary celery. The boards empty."
Eddie looks down.
.......The board is empty.
"Oh." His voice comes out small. Embarrassed. "Sorry,"
Buck's expression shift's instantly - sharp dominance melting into something protective, warm, possessive.
"Are you slipping?" Buck murmurs, brushing his knuckles under Eddie's jaw,
Eddie shakes his head, but his eyes are already to glossy, to soft, to overwhelmed,
Buck doesn't buy it for a second.
"Sweetheart," Buck says stepping between Eddie's legs, forcing Eddie back into he counter with a firm body pin. "You're shaking."
Eddie bites his lip.
Buck grabs Eddie's wrists, not hard, just hard enough to anchor, and gently pull them down from their tight little fists,
"There," Buck whispers "Better."
Eddie melts instantly, knees wobbly.
Buck leans in until his mouth brushes Eddie's ear. "You wanna tell me why you've been staring at me like you wanna climb me?"
Eddie's checks flush violently. " I--I wasn't--"
"Baby," Buck cuts in, voice a sinful murmer, "you looked at me like you forgot your own name,"
Eddie whimpers.
Buck grins.
"There it is."
Buck lifts Eddie easily, hands under his thighs, a smoothm practiced motioned, and sets him on the counter like he weighs nothing.Eddie gasps, grabbing Buck’s shoulders for balance.
“Good girl,” Buck murmurs, thumbs stroking Eddie’s knees apart. “Hold onto me.”
Eddie does. Desperately.
Buck steps in, crowding him, chest to chest, nose brushing Eddie’s. Eddie’s thighs instinctively tighten around Buck’s hips.
“Evan…” Eddie breathes.
Buck’s smile is slow, wicked. “Yeah, I know. I’m doing things to you.”
He drags his hands up Eddie’s sides, fingers slipping under the hem of Eddie’s shirt just enough to make Eddie shiver violently.
“You’re supposed to be helping me cook,” Buck murmurs, lips ghosting over Eddie’s jaw.
“I’m trying,” Eddie whispers.
“No,” Buck corrects softly, “you’re trying to figure out what I taste like.”
Eddie’s breath catches, pupils blown.
Buck laughs under his breath. Dark. Hot. Knowing.
He picks up a warm bit of stuffing mix with two fingers, slow and deliberate.
“Open.”
Eddie’s lips part instantly, a soft, needy sound escaping before he can stop it.
Buck slides his fingers into Eddie’s mouth — slow, controlled, filthy.
“Good girl,” Buck whispers, watching Eddie’s mouth close around his fingers, cheeks hollowing just enough. “Look at you.”
Eddie moans softly around his fingers, eyes fluttering.
Buck’s inhale is sharp.
“Sweetheart,” Buck says, voice cracking into something lower, hungrier, “you’re gonna make this really hard on me.”
Eddie’s thighs squeeze around him.
Buck growls — actually growls — and pulls Eddie closer to the edge of the counter with one firm tug.
“No more pretending you’re fine,” Buck murmurs. “You want me. You’ve wanted me since I started chopping onions.”
Eddie whimpers, wrecked.
Buck kisses him — deep, greedy, claiming — and Eddie melts instantly, hands gripping Buck’s shoulders, thighs tight around his waist, breath breaking between their mouths.
“Daddy…” Eddie gasps into the kiss, slipping fully now.
Buck shudders, forehead falling against Eddie’s.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Buck whispers, smiling against Eddie’s lips, “you just guaranteed dinner’s not getting finished tonight.”
Eddie pulls him closer. “Good.”
Buck laughs, breathless, dark, and delighted.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”