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The afternoon sun filtered through the half-closed blinds of Eddie’s bedroom, casting warm stripes across the bed. The house was supposed to be empty—Christopher was at a sleepover, and the team wasn’t due for another couple of hours for the backyard barbecue they’d planned.
Eddie braced his hands on Buck’s chest, thighs flexing as he sank down again, taking Buck deeper inside him with a low, shaky moan. Buck’s grip on his hips was bruising, thumbs digging in as he thrust up to meet him.
“Fuck, Eddie—” Buck gasped, head tipping back against the pillows, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Sweat slicked their skin where they were joined. Eddie rolled his hips in a slow, filthy grind, riding him with deliberate control, savoring the stretch and the way Buck filled him perfectly.
“Yeah? Like that?” Eddie’s voice was rough, breathy. He leaned down to kiss Buck hard, tongues sliding together as he picked up the pace, the slick sound of their bodies moving filling the room. Buck’s hands slid to Eddie’s ass, spreading him wider, helping him bounce harder.
They were so lost in it—moans, curses, the creak of the bed—that neither of them heard the front door open.
“Eddie? You home? We brought the extra cooler early—” Bobby’s voice carried down the hallway.
The bedroom door was ajar. They’d meant to close it.
Hen, Chimney, Bobby, and Ravi stepped into the short hallway just in time to freeze in the doorway, eyes wide at the unmistakable scene: Eddie completely naked, back arched, riding Buck with shameless intensity. Buck’s hands were full of Eddie’s ass, both of them mid-thrust, flushed and glistening with sweat.
For one stunned second, the only sounds were Eddie’s ragged moan and the wet slap of skin on skin.
“Holy shit—” Chimney yelped, slapping a hand over his eyes.
Hen’s eyebrows shot up. “Well. That’s… athletic.”
Ravi turned bright red and immediately spun around. “Nope. Nope nope nope—”
Bobby looked like he was questioning every life choice that had led him here. He cleared his throat loudly. “Door was open. We, uh… we’ll wait outside.”
Eddie’s head snapped toward the door, hips stuttering to a stop. Buck’s eyes flew open in panic, but his hands instinctively tightened on Eddie’s waist like he couldn’t quite let go yet.
“Jesus Christ—out!” Eddie barked, face burning crimson even as his body clenched involuntarily around Buck, drawing a strangled groan from him.
The team scrambled backward.
“Lock the damn door next time!” Chimney called out, half-laughing, half-traumatized as they retreated down the hall.
The front door clicked shut behind them.
Eddie dropped his forehead to Buck’s chest, mortified laughter shaking through him. Buck’s arms wrapped around his back, still buried deep inside him, hips twitching like he was fighting the urge to keep moving.
“They saw my ass,” Eddie muttered, cheeks flaming.
“They saw a lot more than that,” Buck said, voice wrecked. He kissed Eddie’s temple, then rolled his hips up once, slow and teasing. “You gonna stop?”
Eddie groaned, torn between embarrassment and the aching need still throbbing through him. He rolled his hips experimentally, biting his lip at the spark of pleasure.
“…Five minutes,” he decided, starting to move again, slower but just as deep. “Then we go face the firing squad.”
Buck grinned up at him, eyes dark with lust and affection. “Make it ten.”
Outside, the team stood in the driveway trying (and failing) not to laugh.
“Should we pretend we saw nothing?” Ravi asked weakly.
Hen snorted. “Too late for that. I’m never letting either of them live this down.”
The backyard smelled like grilled burgers, charcoal, and Chimney’s overly ambitious homemade salsa. The 118 had set up like nothing happened—coolers open, lawn chairs scattered, music playing low from a speaker—but the second Eddie and Buck stepped outside, the energy shifted.
Eddie’s hair was still damp from the world’s fastest shower. He wore a fresh shirt but couldn’t quite hide the faint mark on his neck. Buck walked beside him with a slight, satisfied swagger, cheeks still flushed, looking far too pleased with himself.
The team tried. They really tried to act normal.
For about four seconds.
“Well, look who decided to join the living,” Hen called out, smirking as she sipped her drink. “Nice of you two to… finish up.”
Eddie groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can we not?”
“Too late,” Chimney said cheerfully, flipping a burger with dramatic flair. “I’ve got the image burned into my retinas. You were really putting in work, Diaz. Impressive hip mobility.”
Ravi made a strangled noise and stared very intently at his soda can.
Bobby, ever the dad, tried to steer things toward dignity. He handed each of them a plate. “Food’s ready. Let’s keep it civil.” Then, under his breath as they passed: “You couldn’t have locked the door?”
Buck grinned, unrepentant, as he loaded his plate with way too much potato salad. “We were a little busy.”
Eddie elbowed him hard in the ribs, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He couldn’t stay embarrassed for long—not with Buck’s hand resting casually on the small of his back like it belonged there.
As the afternoon wore on, the teasing came in waves.
Hen leaned over during a lull. “So… how long has this been going on? Real answer.”
Eddie glanced at Buck, who just shrugged and stole a chip off his plate. “A while,” Eddie admitted. “We were figuring it out. Then… not figuring it out anymore.”
“Translation: they’ve been screwing like rabbits and finally got caught,” Chimney supplied helpfully.
“Christopher know?” Bobby asked, more seriously.
“Yeah,” Buck answered, softening. “He’s thrilled. Called us idiots for taking so long.”
That earned real smiles around the table. The mood shifted from roasting to something warmer. Ravi eventually stopped hiding behind his phone. Athena showed up later with desserts and only needed one pointed look from Bobby before she pieced it together and simply said, “About damn time,” before pulling Eddie into a hug.
Later, when the sun dipped lower and the group sprawled across the patio furniture, Eddie found himself back in Buck’s lap again—this time fully clothed, Buck’s arms looped loosely around his waist as they shared a beer. No one batted an eye.
Chimney raised his bottle in a lazy toast. “To Buck and Eddie. May your future walk-ins be less… revealing.”
“May your doors always be locked,” Hen added.
Eddie flipped them off without heat. Buck just laughed and pressed a kiss to the side of Eddie’s neck, right over that faint hickey, completely comfortable in front of their family.
The barbecue stretched long into the evening—stories, laughter, the occasional chirp about “rhythm” or “form”—but underneath it all was easy acceptance. The 118 had walked in on a lot of things over the years. This one, at least, was something worth celebrating