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“I saw that. You just checked me out.”
Steve’s cheeks immediately flush red, body stiffening at the accusation—at being caught.
It had just been a little peek.
Eddie’s been wearing these new jeans lately. He’s shredded up the knees himself but they’re brand new because all his other pairs were completely falling apart. They’re black, a little washed out, but they’re tight. They’re much tighter than any of his old pairs. These things cling to the skin, show off every inch of Eddie’s skinny legs, and sit so snug against his ass that it’s kind of hard not to look. (And, admittedly, Eddie does not… have much of an ass. What it lacks in size, it seems to make up for in being perky, and Steve’s fine with that). The jeans just accentuate how much Steve wants to grab, is the thing.
But he’s not grabbing, he’s just looking. That’s allowed. Still didn’t wanna get caught, though.
“Well. Stop shaking it around in front of me and maybe I wouldn’t have to look,” Steve mutters, folding his arms defensively over his chest and turning away from Eddie, leaned up against the counter.
Eddie can’t help the little smirk at the corner of his mouth, dropping the notebook of potential song lyrics onto the carpet of the trailer.
“Oops,” he says, a hand going to his mouth, exaggerated. “Clumsy little me.”
He bends over, one leg straight and one knee not, peeking back at Steve over his shoulder as he reaches blindly for the notebook. So slowly. Steve stares at him blankly, one eyebrow starting to raise as he gets more and more annoyed by it.
“You’re so mature,” he deadpans, sighing and shaking his head.
Eddie straightens up again with a roll of his eyes, walking back over to Steve and doing a spin to press his back to Steve’s front. “Don’t get all mad at me just ‘cause I caught you looking!”
He's got his ass pressed up against Steve’s crotch, and Steve refuses to unfold his arms, using them to keep a barrier between them, stop Eddie teasing him further.
“Is it so bad to look?!” he huffs, turning his face away when Eddie leans his head back against Steve’s shoulder. “Stop trying to butter me up. You were making fun of me.”
“You’re allowed to look,” he pouts. “S'just funny to see you like that. Eyes all wide, tongue hanging outta your mouth—”
Steve gapes at him. “It was not!”
Eddie laughs heartily, standing up and away from him, and Steve almost follows, almost misses the loss of contact too much.
“Come on, sailor, help me put my guitars in the car and I’ll pretend not to notice if you look again.”
Steve pushes himself off the counter then, narrowing his eyes at Eddie as he heads for the front door. Steve quickens his pace, gets right up behind Eddie just as his hand touches the door handle. In a second, Steve’s got each hand on Eddie’s ass, gripped tight and it fits perfectly in his palms. Eddie squeaks as Steve squeezes so hard it almost hurts, muscles clenching up reflexively in shock. Steve gets his lips right against the back of Eddie’s ear, just brushing it.
“Not gonna just look any more,” he whispers. “If you wear these in front of me again, I’m tearing them right back off. That’s a promise.”
He gives Eddie’s ass another rough grope before he lets go, and Eddie staggers back a little from the loss. Steve shoots him a smile, giving his shocked face a quick little kiss on the nose before opening the door for him.
“Let’s get those guitars, I’ll open up the van,” he says, picking up the keys and tossing them into the other hand as he skips outside, a cheerful bounce to his step.
Eddie just swallows, a little breathless, finding himself staring at Steve’s ass now instead as he heads for the van.